


Thunder and Lightning

by MintyInk_The_Amateur



Series: Finding Family [2]
Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I write too much about Legos, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Original Character(s), Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintyInk_The_Amateur/pseuds/MintyInk_The_Amateur
Summary: A surprise from Cole's past at the School of Performing Arts visits, and he brings questions with him. Why is he here? Where did he come from? And most importantly... who is he to them?Takes place in the months between seasons 10 and 11, in the same universe as Where did the Wind Go?
Relationships: Cole (Ninjago)/Original Character(s), Dareth/Ronin (Ninjago), Nya/Jay Walker, P.I.X.A.L./Zane (Ninjago)
Series: Finding Family [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830676
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25





	1. Everything You Could Ever Want

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are again- me writing way too much about Lego Ninjas.
> 
> NOTE: This fic takes place in the same continuity as my other fic, 'Where Did the Wind Go?'. I suggest you read that one before starting this one or you're going to be very confused in a couple of chapters.
> 
> I'm always excited for feedback, so PLEASE comment!
> 
> -Minty

Alexander St. Gail had everything he could ever need, right there in New Ninjago City. The ward, student, and heir of late actor Cliff Gordon, he inherited a fortune so immense that if he wanted to, he could spend the rest of his life relaxing in a gold-encrusted pool, washing down caviar with champagne for every meal. The fact that he’s a classically trained and incredibly talented performer is just icing on the hundred-million-dollar cake. 

Ever since he graduated from the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts, the newspapers have described him as ‘a true triple threat, with the voice, face, and body of an angel’. Despite being only twenty-two years old, he’s starred in numerous movies, ballets, plays, and musicals. His agent has a waiting list. Between everything, he crams in as many charity events as possible, signing things and giving huge amounts of money to any hospital, clinic, or shelter that asks. 

When he gets home- whenever that may be, his schedule is so stuffed that it could be 3 AM before he has free time- he has the same routine.

He makes himself a cup of black coffee. It’s bitter, and he hates the taste of coffee anyway, but every time he comes home he ends up with the same blue mug in his hand, poring over how many newspapers the doorstep has accumulated while he was out. Once, during an especially draining movie production, he’d come home to find no less than fifteen papers waiting for him. He went through a lot of coffee that night.

He reads the stories, does the sudokus (he’s always had a knack for number puzzles, but famously has never finished a crossword) and cuts out all the stories about the Ninja. A familiar face stares up at him- a smiling strongman cloaked in black, standing proudly with his chosen family- and every picture goes into a scrapbook. Along with the pictures, he saves a copy of every letter they’ve sent each other- hundreds of pages of correspondence, stretching over the years. Someday, he’ll read them all again.

When he sees a photo of himself, he flips the page- he learned long ago not to read about himself. Fame is not kind, and he doesn’t have the constitution or the strength to stomach the rumors they spread. His scrapbook goes on the shelf. The empty coffee pot goes in the dishwasher.

He burns the rest of it.

Most of the time he’s too tired for his skincare routine, but he does it anyway- lazily rubbing serums and medications into his skin. He’s got to be perfect, after all. He falls asleep in an empty, way too big house, hoping against hope to for once have a dreamless sleep.

It never works.

He dreams of his uncle’s cabin more often than not. Far from the civilized world- a mailbox and a beaten-up truck served as their only way to contact anyone else. It was fine, though- little Alex liked the truck, and he liked the farmers’ markets they traded at, but he was convinced that the only person he’d ever really need was Uncle Jim, who taught him all the ways of the perfect world they shared.

Sunlight streaming through trees begging to be climbed, a river teeming with frogs and fish, and other things to catch- the perfect place for a young boy to grow. Ruined with a single day of bad luck. 

Uncle Jim wasn’t even supposed to go out that day. He should’ve been safe, and warm, and alive as the scruffy brown bears cozy and dreaming under the mountain they all called home. His uncle, wrapped in no less than three layers, had promised him rabbit stew for dinner. For his birthday dinner. 

The snow rolled in where it wasn’t supposed to and after three lonely days of watching the windows and praying Alex opened the door to find not his smiling uncle, but four stocky police officers. They flew into the city in a helicopter, and he spent the night in a cold room at the station. When they didn’t think he could hear them, he heard them say Uncle Jim was dead.

“Frozen solid, with a rabbit in his hand.”

At eight years old, he went to school. Every day he sang and danced and recited lines like scripture, and every night he gasped into the night air when visions of snow and shining badges woke him. The boy sharing his room, dark and quiet and one year older but just as sad, held his hand as he sobbed in the darkness, choking on the stale city air. 

No matter how he tries- medication, therapy, even hypnosis- he’ll wake up in the dead of night with those words on his lips. Frozen solid, with a rabbit in his hand.

It’s hard, closing his eyes when he knows those words are waiting for him.

Late in the year, the dreams change- instead of a log cabin, he swims through visions of a tiny room and a storm. At least he’s alone there, for a while.

When November hits, it becomes unbearable.

* * *

(The room is empty)

Alex collapsed into a chair, the latest letter from his oldest friend unopened in his hand. Even after an entire pot of coffee, he found it difficult to raise his shaking arms. The paper envelope ripped away easily, revealing messy handwriting only a select few had been trained to read. Another lazy day, the letter said. Full of relaxing and video games and basking in the glory of another job well done.

(The mirror is calling)

He’s exhausted, but he can’t fall asleep yet. The last line of the letter, he read to the empty room.

“Peppermint?”

He laughed dryly at the word, remembering his thirst but still not getting up. The room has no clock or watch to look at- time doesn’t exist until the alarm goes off. He blinked up at the ceiling, breathing in the night air wafting through the open window. It’s the breeze that finally got him moving, following the smell of dirt and rain out onto an intricate balcony. The marble under his feet is almost unrecognizable, nearly every inch taken up with potted saplings and moss terrariums and two impressive rose bushes. He collapsed onto the railing, his breathing slow and ragged. The balcony, he determined long ago, is the only play he can really breathe- protected by his plants and the soft summer rain, far from the suffocating studios he calls home so often. 

(The boy has no face)

A rose brushed his hand, black as night. Alexander tucked it back into its bush, careful not to disturb the petals. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, and he barely blinked them back in time.

“To be honest,” he said to the empty sky, “I’ve been peppermint for years.”

A cold memory bit at the back of his throat- sleepless nights and exhausting days twisting together with the sharp taste of the only sweet allowed in school.

Bile rose at the back of his throat, and before he knew it his stomach emptied itself over the balcony. Alexander gasped for air, clutching at the railing for some sort of support as nausea took its toll. Stomach acid made his lips buzz, and the emptiness inside of him made his vision tip sideways.

(Find me)

When the world stopped spinning, he found himself staring straight up at the rain, the cool marble pressing against his back. He blinked once, twice, and felt himself falling.

“I don’t-” he choked out as a fat raindrop hit his forehead, “I don’t think I can do this again.”

_Selfish,_ said the little voice in his head, and he knew he would have to.

He’d have to get up, plug his veins with bitter coffee, and smile until he could break down again. He’d have to. At least for now he could dream of that empty room, and be alone in his mind.

If only he’d remembered to look at the calendar before sitting down.

In the kitchen, the electronic calendar glowed a bright yellow that looked golden in the darkness, flashing like lightning as midnight hit.

‘November 1’, the calendar said, and Alexander fell asleep.


	2. Quest For A Lightbulb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pixal needs a lightbulb. Unfortunately, she lives with a gaggle of idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 here we go! I honestly have no clue how many chapters this fic will have, but I'm pretty sure it'll be at least 50k
> 
> Feedback is welcome- feel free to comment!
> 
> :)

Almost done.

Pixal grabbed a screwdriver from the teetering shelf at the edge of her reach. The lightbulb above her flickered once, and she reminded herself to replace it once she was done. There wasn’t a time limit for the task, of course- every task had been unlimited for far too long- but she was so close to the end that it felt like nothing could deter her.  _ It’s almost done.  _

Carefully, carefully, she leaned into the control panel and fixed one of the last screws in place. She moved slowly, careful to not disturb the numerous tiny wires and electronic boards within the panel. With a twist of her wrist, the second screw twisted into place, and she leaned over to the shelf to pick the next one up. The light flickered again.

“Oh come on-” she snapped at the light, clutching the screwdriver tighter. “Just a little longer.” Arguing with a lightbulb, she knew, was futile, but she just needed a few more minutes.

As she moved toward the third hole in the frame, another flicker came from above. If she had lungs, she would’ve held her breath as the light flashed once, twice-

And went out. Pixal found herself, her unfinished project, and the entire garage plunged into darkness as the light above died. In the soft blue glow her eyes gave off, she could see vague shapes in the room- not nearly enough for such a delicate operation. Cursing loudly, she made her way to the elevator and punched the ‘up’ button. The elevator lurched to the side, throwing Pixal off balance, but she found it again as the ramshackle lift started upward.

“Maybe I’ll put speakers in with the upgrades,” she muttered to herself, holding onto the wall in case of another sputter. “Listening to music would improve the experience.”

The suggestion went on the list- her internal file on what had to be done to complete her biggest ever project. Mechs, platforms, a lift that doesn’t rattle her circuits, and she had some incredible ideas for a hidden entrance. Perhaps a combination lock, or something with throwing stars.

At the pace she was going it would take months to get everything working, even with the occasional helper. Wu spent most of his time berating the team for relaxing, Dareth and Ronin, while stronger than most, were still  _ insufferably _ human, and her littlest helper found herself hindered constantly by bedtimes and homework. The lift ground to a halt, rattling like a jar of tokens. Behind the false wall, she heard a series of electronic pings; most likely, someone was playing a video game in the den. Didn’t matter- nobody had noticed her coming and going for the past two weeks. A string of curses erupted from the room; Kai and Nya, screaming at either the television or each other.

The false wall slid by with just a little push, and Pixal easily walked by the Smith siblings on the couch, battling it out over what looked like Fists of Fire Seven. Neither of them noticed her as she went through the room and into the compound. To her dismay, the first supply closet she checked had no lightbulbs- neither did the second or the third, for that matter. Frustrated, she went and looked again, scouring each shelf for even a single lightbulb so she could get back to work.

“Pixal?” a familiar voice said from behind her. Carefully, she picked herself out of the closet she was in and turned toward the voice, finding a sweet silver face siling at her.

“Hello, Zane,” she said, adjusting her ponytail. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled again, and she felt herself returning the gesture. 

“I was on my way to the den to get Kai and Nya,” he said, and raised an eyebrow at her. “What are you doing elbow-deep in a supply closet?”

If she were human, she would have blushed. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and tried to look frustrated.

“I’m  _ trying _ to find a lightbulb- I don’t know where they all could’ve gone!” She turned to look back into the closet, still frustratingly lacking in lightbulbs. She whipped back around, however, when she heard Zane laughing. “What’s so funny?” 

He laughed a moment longer before containing himself. “My dear,” he said, smiling, “If you follow me, I can show you where all the lightbulbs went.”

He offered her a hand and she took it, letting him lead her back to the den. His hand was cold- but then again, so was hers. It always made her feel better, knowing there was someone so close who was just like her.

“Kai?” Zane called from the doorway, “Nya? There is something you have to see in the courtyard.”

He turned away from the siblings and she walked in step with him before an answer could come from the siblings, but Pixal heard the ‘pause’ sound come from the TV- and she wasn’t surprised when two pairs of feet started tapping after them. She grinned in anticipation as they rounded the final corner to behold Cole holding a box.

“Hey, guys!” he said, struggling to hold the box and wave at the same time. The box, Pixal realized, labeled ‘Lightbulbs’. She opened her mouth to berate him, perhaps demand one for herself so she could finally get back to work, but a hand on her shoulder drew her attention. Zane chuckled once and pointed over to the center of the courtyard. Under the golden dragon’s shadow, holding as perfectly still as he could, was Jay.

Jay, shirtless and  _ absolutely covered in lightbulbs. _

With four bulbs in each hand, a handful tied into his hair, several seemingly glued onto his arms, and one sticking out of each ear, the Master of Lightning looked utterly ridiculous. Lloyd came from behind the dragon with a roll of electrical tape and another lightbulb, unceremoniously taping it to Jay’s face before stepping back and admiring his work.

“You ready for this, Jay?” Cole said, setting the box down in his corner of the yard. No response came, and he sighed defeatedly after a moment. “Oh wait, he’s got bulbs in his ears.” He walked right up to Jay and yelled, “YOU READY, JAY?”

“Yep,” whispered the Master of Lightning, straining to keep still. He pursed his lips together, concentrating. 

Lloyd spared a glance at the sinking sun before giving Jay a thumbs-up and running to join the Smith siblings. A stray spark flew from Jay’s skin, and Cole backed up just in time for all of the lightbulbs to blink on, bathing the darkening courtyard in a warm light. With all of the lights on, Jay looked like a demented disco ball, stuck in the awkward position it took to keep the lightbulbs from falling. The courtyard burst into laughter, Pixal forgetting her impatience for one moment as she doubled over at the absurdity of it all. She hoped Zane was able to take a picture- this was something worth reliving. Elemental Master turned generator.

A shattering sound broke her laughter, and she straightened up when two more sounds like it hit the air. Before she could say anything, the rest of the lightbulbs popped like balloons- their glass strewn across the ground. 

“Jay!,” Nya shouted, surging forward and flipping over the glass to check him for injuries.

“My lightbulbs!” Pixal groaned, and caught Zane staring at her in the corner of her vision. “What?”

“Pixal,” he said softly, “I love you, but your priorities are unusual.”

“Jay’s fine!” came a multitude of voices, shouting in the general direction of Wu’s room. No stirring or yelling started, and the team breathed a sigh of relief. Nya grabbed some water from a nearby bucket and started cleaning the glass away.

“If you can wait a few days, Ronin can bring us some more lightbulbs,” he said, taking her hand. “It’s much too far to walk, and the sun’s going down.”

It was like a tiny lighbulb went off in Pixal’s head.

“Wait!” she said, gripping Zane’s hand tighter, “Maybe there is a way!”

She turned and ran back to the den, only pausing when she reached the false wall. Glancing back, she saw a glimpse of silver peeking out from the doorway.

“Zane,” she said, “I love you, but you’re going to have to be sneakier than that.”

He sheepishly stepped into the light, a confused look still on his face.

“I promise I’ll be back in an hour, and with lightbulbs.”

He simply nodded and smiled, and she slipped behind the false wall, leaving the love of her life in the den as she descended into the garage. Thankfully there was no lurching on the way down, so she could fully focus on how excited she was.

“Just a quick test drive,” she told herself, “nothing too risky. Just for lightbulbs.”

The lift opened, and in the light of her eyes she beheld her creation. A motorized cycle with grappling hooks and net guns and a dozen other tricks- unpainted, but nearly complete. In her head, she’d taken to calling it the Lightning Bug. A personalized vehicle for smaller missions or backup, and it was going to be  _ beautiful; _ Electric blue, lightning bolts on the sides, maybe a mini-fridge. She planned on making more, but finishing the first one was still a welcome accomplishment. Pixal climbed into the cockpit and hit the ignition, turning the machine toward the opening door to the outside. The sunset shone beautifully over the horizon- the perfect ambiance for a test drive.

“This is gonna be fun.” she said, hitting the gas. The door closed behind her and the mech shot off into the distance, the engine roaring to the heavens.

Back in the garage, the final two screws sat in the dark, waiting.


	3. Shakespeare in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, trips don't go the way we imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all want anything in particular from this fic, just comment. Heck, if y'all want a fic for a different fandom, there's a decent chance I have one in the works already. 
> 
> P.S. I'll try to update this regularly, but I'm moving soon so there will likely be a few weeks in mid-August with no content update. I'm sorry :)

Alex was really starting to hate the sun. 

After three days stuck in the desert, trudging alongside the train tracks, he was sure that the burn on the back of his neck would never heal. His throat burned with thirst, the hat he had on did little to nothing to block the everlasting heat, and he didn’t even know what time it was or how long it was until sunset. If he looked, the sun was about two fingers’ distance above the horizon line, but he couldn’t quite remember if that meant that night was thirty minutes or two hours away.

Sweat dripped in his eyes, but he knew he had to keep the hat on. Blondes, Uncle Jim had told him long ago, were especially susceptible to _scalp burns,_ a phrase that made his skin crawl.

At least he wouldn’t have a watch tan anymore, but if he ever met that jerk with the eyepatch again there would be hell to pay. He pulled his ball cap down lower on his face and cursed his attire again; full-length robes were good sun protection, but the yellow fabric stuck to his skin and turned all five-foot-six of him into a sauna- sweating and burning and sweating again. He was half-tempted to take out his water bottle again (and again, and again, and again). 

The last two nights, he’d just curled up next to a rock or a sign and fluttered half-asleep until the sun came up. Of the two, he preferred the rock, but the heat of the day and the effort of staying upright in the sand left him desperate enough to plop down anywhere that didn’t have a snake infestation- he’d met plenty of those, too.

In the distance, a rundown train stop came into view, and Alex sighed with relief. The sun dwindled toward the horizon, but it felt like he reached it in no time, moving as fast as he could without sinking into the sand. He passed into the shadow of the little hut, and the sweet relief of shade could’ve made him cry had he not been so dehydrated. 

“Must be my lucky day,” he laughed dryly, “The sun is setting, the night is cool, and I might live long enough to starve to death on my own terms.”

He didn’t want to go to sleep- he _couldn’t._ The thought of facing the November dream again made him want to walk out into the desert and never walk out. The room would be empty, the mirror would be calling, and his reflection- if you could call it that, if reflections could have different hair colors- would have no face, jolting him out of his sleep and into a cold sweat. He couldn’t go through that again.

Alex threw his backpack into the corner with the least amount of spiderwebs and took out his water bottle- carefully marked with each day’s rations. He finished it off, and refilled it from the half-empty water tower at the corner of the stop. His water supply stable for the first time in days, he set it down and tried to think of what to do next.

He found himself on his feet again, pacing from one rickety wall to the other. He picked at himself; his hair, his robes, and his earrings- all in his signature yellow- tugging at everything to keep himself awake. Moonlight streamed through a hole in the wall. His hair looked nearly blue in the dim light as he went to and fro. He looked out into the night- the gentle, blackened night- and the words he’d spoken a hundred times came to him again.

“When he shall die, take him,” Alex said under his breath, “Take him and cut him out in little stars!”

In an instant, the train stop transformed- the talented Mr. St. Gail placed himself onto a stage in his mind’s eye, performing for an audience of sand and wind and loneliness to forget his own exhaustion. They had all bought tickets, of course, and so he gave it his all. 

“And he shall make the face of heaven so fine,” he said, raising his voice to the darkening sky, “All the world will be in love with night! And pay no worship to the garish sun!”

The roar of applause filled his ears, and he turned his eyes to the moon. Full and bright.

“Oh! I have bought the mansion of a love, but not possessed it, and though I am sold, not yet enjoyed!” 

The roaring grew louder and louder, and only when the roar turned into a scream and a crash did Alex snap out of his recital. He found himself frozen, his arm outstretched toward something (or someone) that had never been there. The desert, save for him, was empty.

Except, of course, whatever made the crashing sound. 

“Hello?” Alex called into the desert, and only silence answered him. He picked his way down off of the platform and onto the sand, balancing to keep upright in the shifting sand. A quick peek around the corner of the train stop immediately revealed what had caused the deafening crash just a few seconds earlier. A huge chunk of metal overturned, wheels up in the sand. Behind it, a rock jutted out of the ground, with pieces of torn metal shining in the moonlight. Not a car- whatever it was, it was way too big to be a car. A mech, maybe.

“Hello?” Alex said again, raising his voice- a mech must have a driver. When no answer came out of the sand, he felt a pit of dread start to form in his stomach. Someone could be hurt- or worse.

Looking right, he finally saw something that could have been the driver. A pale human shape wearing some sort of body armor, face up in the sand. Alex scrambled over the dunes, almost reaching the figure before stopping dead in his tracks. The person in the sand wasn’t just pale- her skin was _white_ , with purple veins running down her face. A quick glance down confirmed Alex’s worst suspicion. Teal armor, gold accents, and a face he’d seen a thousand times in the papers.

_(Borg Creates Life, New Opportunities in Android Technology)_

“Pixal,” he breathed, transfixed on the Samurai X symbol on her armor. He felt like he should turn away, like he’d stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to know, but she was clearly hurt and as he looked around it became apparent that Alex was the only person who could help her.

“One, two..” Alex counted before tugging on one of the unconscious nindroid’s arm, pulling her a good three feet back toward the shelter. A quick glance down showed him yet another problem. While Pixal slid over the sand, her left leg stayed right where it was. 

After freezing and thinking for a solid five minutes, the classically trained and sophistically educated Mr. St. Gail opened his mouth and released a string of curses that would have surely made his professors faint. 

Pixal didn’t stir from the crash site to the shelter- not even when Alex took hold of her hand and, like a throwing hammer, spun around and hucked all five-hundred-and-all pounds of nindroid onto the platform. He went back for her leg, which was notably much easier than lifting the rest of her. He put his hat to good use, beating as much sand off of her as he could. Thankfully, she didn’t wake up. He pushed her into the corner, moving his own stuff away.

“Okay, I’ve got-” Alex said, digging through his knapsack, “three days’ rations, rope, pocketknife, puzzle cube, an unconscious nindroid, a copy of _The Best of Shakespeare-”_

A screech tore through the still desert air, reminding him of the resource he hadn’t considered yet.

In just a moment, Alexander Beau St. Gail was scrabbling around the upended mech like a starving raccoon, digging his hands into every nook for anything possibly useful. A toolbox in the backseat, a first aid kit in the floorboards, and-

“Bingo!” He called into the empty desert, smiling into the upside-down glove compartment. A compass and a map, most likely for just the kind of emergency they were in. He walked with his treasure back to his unconscious company.

“You’re pretty smart,” he told the sleeping girl, “keeping all these supplies on hand.”

He studied the map in the moonlight, searching for two little dots. He found the first by following the train tracks, eventually landing his finger on a little square appropriately marked ‘Abandoned Train Station’, which according to the map was about twenty-five miles from the tiny red star he needed to reach.

“Twenty-five miles, that’s-” he told himself, counting on his fingers, “two and a half day’s walk, counting rests.” He sighed, and turned his attention to Pixal. “You picked the worst place in the world to crash, huh?”

Still asleep. He was talking to himself- like a crazy person. Great.

“And of course, I forgot my phone. Great.”

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head, like a personal stroke of lightning. He unhooked the passengers’ side seat from the mech and threw it onto a hunk of sheet metal, right-side up. Getting the unconscious Pixal into the seat was admittedly much harder than he’d initially thought, but it was worth it for the seatbelt. Once Pixal was safely buckled in with her leg, Alex rigged the sheet metal to the chair, and the chair to his backpack- like a sleigh, but instead of bringing presents he was just trying not to die.

“We’re burning moonlight,” he said, slinging the backpack onto his shoulders and buckling it over his chest. He tested it out with a step, and found his weird cargo moved smoothly across the sand. Alex smiled to himself, slapping his cap onto his bluish curls and starting forward across the sea of sand that looked black in the moonlight.

“It’ll take more than this to kill me!” Alex shouted to the moon, laughing at his little moment of hope and the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He’s always been a little foolish.


	4. Out of the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you wake up and something immediately goes wrong.
> 
> Sometimes, things go wrong before you wake up-
> 
> and sometimes you're Pixal.

Bright.

_ Far _ too bright, but Pixal opened her eyes anyway. She expected light streaming through the windows of the room she barely used, with Zane knocking softly on the doorframe to call her down to breakfast. To be completely honest, she expected to open her eyes just to stare into his, finding icy blue eyes and a tired smile to give a jump-start to her day.

The only thing reality gave her was the full moon, a blackened sky, and the blaring red message across her vision.

REBOOT: COMPLETE

SYSTEMS DAMAGED

STATUS: FAIR

Fair was better than nothing, but why in the world did her systems read as ‘damaged’? Her optics seemed fine, staring up at the moon as it traveled-

Across the sky. Very quickly. Like it wasn’t the moon that was moving. She gasped and looked straight ahead as she lurched forward again. Ropes, and a shadowy figure pulling her along like cargo. She tried to struggle, finding a seatbelt and some sort of tape blocking her movement. Her thrashing shook the ropes, and the ropes shook the figure. The shape turned, reached into the folds of its dark robe-

“Hey, you’re awake!”

A flashlight flicked on, and instead of a shadowy figure, Pixal found herself facing a young man in a baseball cap.

“Who are you? Where am I?” Pixal snapped at the boy, “Why am I taped to this chair?”

The boy clenched his jaw in a tight smile, keeping the light on his face. 

“My name is Alexander, miss.” he said politely in an accent Pixal couldn’t place, “we’re currently in the middle of the desert, and I had to use the tape to keep your leg from moving.”

“Leg?” Pixal looked down and almost screamed- her left leg, instead of being attached to the rest of her, was laid across her lap and taped in place. Her hands went over her mouth, frozen solid until she found the strength to form a sentence. “What... _ happened _ ?”

Alexander froze too, looking across the sand and up to the moon and anywhere that wasn’t at Pixal and her severed leg.

“Your mech crashed,” he said finally, “ _ really _ badly.”

The Lightning Bug.  _ Her  _ Lightning Bug. Crashed.

“Can I see it? Maybe I can fix it-” Pixal started, but Alexander’s face turned sour. He looked familiar, she realized- though she couldn’t quite remember where. Maybe he’d been on TV, or she’d seen him at a press conference. He mournfully took off his hat, releasing a wave of neatly trimmed curls into his face. In the harsh flashlight’s rays, she couldn’t quite discern the color of his eyes- some shade of blue, most likely. 

“That’s gonna be a problem. See, you hit a rock-” Alexander ran a hand through his hair, nearly dropping the flashlight in the process. He sighed, and finally met her eyes again. “ _ Hard. _ It’s not even a mech anymore, and even if you could save it it’s a days’ walk thataway,” he said bluntly, gesturing to the empty desert over her shoulder.

A days’ walk. Her mech was a day’s walk away. She had been in the desert for an entire day, at  _ least _ . She tried to check her internal calendar but to no avail. Of course, she could still play virtual ping-pong in her head, but the  _ calendar _ was damaged. Of course.

“What day is it?” she asked frantically, and found herself being pulled along again as Alexander started talking.

“Well,” he said, flicking the flashlight off and stuffing it in his robes, “I left Ninjago City on Saturday- actually, Saturday morning, but who’s counting? I spent the next two days- that’d be Sunday and Monday- on a train before randomly waking up in the desert on what I assume was Tuesday morning.”

His head bobbed as he spoke, and with his cap off Pixal could get a good look at his hair. Blue-tinted in the moonlight meant that Alexander was most likely a blond. As he talked, his hands went up and pulled his sleeves back, revealing pale arms with freckles. She knew him from somewhere, she knew that- but where?

“Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday I spent walking in the desert, and you crashed a couple of hours after sunset (I want to say about 10 P.M, but somebody stole my watch so I’m not sure)”

A memory flashed in her head; speeding through the desert, pushing the Bug to go faster and faster before losing control completely and- she searched her memory banks just to make sure- losing all consciousness. The last thing she could remember was contemplating whether to put on her seatbelt. Just to be safe, she tried her communication chip- nothing but static answered her.

“I towed you until dawn, then we camped out in the shadow of a rock until it got cool enough to travel again- that was maybe two or three hours ago. The map says-”

The map! That she remembered vividly- stuffing a map and compass into the glove compartment of the Bug. It was the very first thing she’d done once the frame was complete, knowing full well how often the ninja got themselves into trouble.

“How ironic,” she grumbled, and Alexander kept talking.

“Twenty-five miles from the train-stop to the Monastery, at an average of two miles an hour (considering the sand) comes to around twelve and a half hours of walking, and we’ve been going for about-” he paused for a second, counting on his fingers, “- about ten hours, so you should be home free before midnight!” He turned to face her, flashing a smile so white it even showed at night. She’d definitely seen him on TV at some point.

The realization hit her like a brick- she’d been in the desert for two days, with no communication. Zane would be worried. Guilt came at her from both sides, from leaving Zane so suddenly and from making Alexander- a total stranger- waste two days of his time trying to get her to safety.

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to-” she tried to say, shifting her leg to expose the broken parts. It could have been much worse- with minimal tools, she could easily be on her feet again in an hour. All of a sudden the makeshift sleigh stopped moving.

“Yes, I do,” Alexander said, and even in the dark, she could discern his expression. “Pixal, you’re a  _ samurai. _ You’re important. Not just that, you’re a  _ nindroid. _ You aren’t some piece of tech that can be replaced.”

She’d known him for only a few minutes, but even she knew this tone was unusual for Alexander. The happy, talkative young man had gone, leaving only hard truth and harsh words behind.

“You can think, and you can feel. What kind of person would I be, leaving someone out in the wild? I won’t take any chances.”

The last phrase had such anger to it, such  _ bite,  _ that Pixal almost asked him about it- who or what had caused such a hatred for taking chances. She caught herself, and settled for a quiet ‘thank you’. Alexander turned back around and forged onward, the conversation struck dead. Pixal turned and found that on the scrap metal under her seat there was a toolbox- the same one she had been using in the Bug. She stretched and grabbed it, and started work on her leg.

She worked in silence for what felt like forever, with nothing but sand or the silent Alexander to keep her company. Slowly, slowly, she made progress- reattaching severed wires and replacing broken screws. Every once in a while, Alexander would sigh and start to say something before falling silent again.

“Do you wanna play a game?” he said finally, jolting her out of her concentration.

“What kind?” she replied, eager to get him talking again.

He turned away again, but she could hear him muttering to himself. “Two Truths One Lie?” he suggested after a moment, and Pixal smiled.

“Oh, I’m good at that one.” 

“Well, Miss Smarty Pants,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, “You go first. My middle name is Carter, my favorite color is yellow, and I have never had a cavity in my life.”

“The first one is a lie!” Pixal said immediately, and Alexander laughed.

“Okay, you got me- I’m Alexander Beau. Was I that obvious?”

She laughed too- “You probably shouldn’t smile before lying about your teeth. Your turn.”

He nodded and started moving forward a little faster than before while she thought.

“Alright,” she decided, “I don’t have a middle name, my favorite color is purple, and I have a grappling hook installed in my arm.”

He hummed, thinking, and she thought too. Where in the world could she have seen him from? She wasn’t that fond of movies geared toward young adults, and she would have noticed immediately if he was a character in a video game she had played.

“I’ll take a guess,” said Alexander, “and say the first one is a lie.”

“Ha! My favorite color is blue.” 

He groaned, disappointed. “Okay, hotshot. How’s this; I quote Shakespeare when I’m stressed, my favorite play is  _ ‘The Taming of the Shrew’, _ and I once starred as Juliet in ‘ _ Romeo and Juliet’. _ ”

“Too easy,” Pixal said smugly, tightening a screw in her leg. “The third one is the lie.”

Even in the dark, she could see Alexander’s silhouette shake his head.

“I,” he declared, “absolutely despise  _ ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ _ ”

It took a moment to process, but when she realized what that meant she burst into laughter.

“What?” Alexander said teasingly, “You don’t think I’m pretty enough? It’s the legs, isn’t it- I  _ knew _ I didn’t have the legs to be Juliet!”

It was at times like these when Pixal considered herself very lucky to be a droid- laughing too long would be painful for anyone with lungs. Alexander tapped her shoulder, and she looked up to find the mountain coming into view- she’d be home within the hour, he declared. She went back to working on her leg, spinning him a lie about doing cartwheels up the mountain once. He fell for it- but she got her next turn wrong, too.

“Needles? Really, you’re fine with spiders and the dark, but you’re scared of needles?”

He nodded, adjusting his backpack. “You know the ‘quoting Shakespeare when stressed’ thing? Yeah, whenever I need to get a shot I end up spouting Macbeth.”

She smiled and ignored the raindrop on her forehead- she was far too busy thinking of more lies to tell her new friend.

If only she had seen the clouds roll in.


	5. The Eleventh Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm going to try to update regularly, but things are getting crazy and I may have to take a break for a while. Thanks for reading!

Lloyd looked out the window again, out at the endless sea of clouds glowing silver in the moonlight. A shiver ran down his spine- he’d been shivering a lot for the past few days. He kept telling himself to go change, maybe put something over his tee shirt, but he stayed by the window anyway. A soft something draped over his shoulders, and he looked up to see Kai, adjusting the blanket so it wouldn’t slide off. He gave Lloyd a worried smile and went back to the couch. 

A movie played on the TV, lighting up Kai’s face as he sat down, but it was obvious nobody was paying attention to the screen. Lloyd had been watching the window for hours, Kai had just gotten back, and he honestly had no idea where anybody else was. He clutched the blanket closer around him and sighed.

Nothing had been right for two days- ever since Pixal went out for a lightbulb run, the entire Monastery had been filled with nothing but tension. Lloyd stood up, taking one last glance at the window. Maybe, just maybe, if he kept looking then Pixal would come home and everybody could breathe again. He turned away, striding across the den and toward the door. He spared a glance back at Kai- watching some horror flick on TV and very close to falling asleep. Lloyd tossed the blanket over his big brother and set out to check on everybody.

The first stop on his list was Cole’s room. He knocked before entering, and for a second thought that nobody was there- the room, like so much of the Monastery, was absolutely silent. It was only when he took a step into the room did he realize the Master of Earth was present. Cole was sitting at his desk, one hand in his hair and the other clutching a piece of paper. 

Whatever it was, the paper must’ve been important, because Cole’s eyes searched every inch of that paper, scanning back and forth for something Lloyd couldn’t name. Before he could be discovered, the Green Ninja backed away and out of the room. It was probably a letter from his dad, or maybe a family friend was sick or something. Lloyd couldn’t think of anything else that would make Cole look so stressed, and he honestly didn’t want to know the details. There was enough stress in the team, he hoped that whatever issue it was, Cole could keep it to himself- at least until they got Pixal back.

He stopped by his own room next- he had to find something to stop the chills. Ignoring the posters on his walls and the pile of fan mail at the door, he shifted through the pile of dirty clothes he’d been ignoring. He rejected his usual gi, a couple of tee shirts, and a jacket that was more stains than fabric before settling on an old favorite. A hoodie; soft with age, clean enough to be wearable, and  _ warm _ .

“And green, of course,” he said to himself as he slipped it on. “Can’t go breaking color code.” 

He spared a glance at himself in the mirror. If he’d known that accepting his destiny and reaching his true potential meant that he’d spend the rest of his life dressed like a lime-flavored marshmallow, he would’ve just died in that volcano. He really,  _ really _ missed wearing black. The color didn’t really matter anyway- he was warm for the first time in two days, and he still had the rest of the team to check on. He made a mental note to brush his hair sometime in the near future, and set out looking for Zane.

It didn’t take long to find him- Zane hadn’t moved in something like twenty hours. Lloyd flashed back to when they had realized Pixal was missing- nothing but utter chaos could compare. Zane himself lead the search party- scouring anywhere and everywhere that she could possibly be. Hours of searching in every vehicle they could find turned up nothing but sand and the remnants of a strange mech left empty in the desert. Once they had returned home, they’d started a search schedule, taking turns in the desert, but not Zane. He’d been standing in the courtyard for almost a full day, unwavering- waiting for Pix to come home.

There he was, standing in the courtyard, straight and tall like a soldier awaiting inspection. Lloyd felt like he should do something- get him a glass of water, or a blanket, or a picture of a bird or something,  _ anything  _ to make Zane smile again, or at least move a little.

“She’s gonna be okay, Zane.” he said, putting a hand on his cold titanium shoulder, and gasped. Zane, still as a statue from afar, was shaking-  _ badly _ . He tried to keep his voice steady, “If anyone can make it out there, it’s Pixal.”

Zane took a shaky breath, “I hope you are right,” he said simply, with a voice that said if he spoke any more he was going to cry. It hurt, seeing his brother so brokenhearted. They just had to wait and hope for a miracle, which was even more frustrating.

The monastery doors creaked, and both boys looked up- but it was just Jay and Nya returning from a search, and from the looks on their faces Lloyd knew they were empty handed.

“Anything?” he asked anyway.

“Nothing,” Jay said, shaking his head and leaning on Nya for support. “Just sand and the wreck again.”

_ Wreck _ . Despite the hoodie, a shiver ran up Lloyd’s spine. If the wreck was Pixal’s- which they were sure it was- they hadn’t found her there, nor had they found any footprints or trails. Either the desert wind had covered her tracks or she had been taken somewhere, and either way something terrible must’ve happened to her. She could be lost, or scared, or hurt.

_ Or worse,  _ the little voice in Lloyd’s head whispered.

A crack of thunder banished the thought, and every eye in the courtyard snapped to Jay.

“Wasn’t me,” the Master of Lightning said weakly, and the heavens opened up. The dark sky filled with rain in the blink of an eye- they’d been so concerned with finding Pixal they hadn’t seen the dark clouds rolling in. Lloyd yelled at Zane to get under cover and busied himself helping Jay and Nya get situated in the den, both of them collapsing onto the couch next to a passed-out Kai. He turned the TV down and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on, sneaking a peek into Cole’s room on the way. Face down, snoring, but still with that piece of paper in his hand. Lloyd put a pillow under Cole’s face and kept moving.

By the time Lloyd entered the den again, tea in hand, Jay and Nya were out like a pair of lights- snuggled together on the couch in their still-wet clothes. Kai had been either pushed or kicked onto the floor, still somehow asleep despite the cold floor and the storm outside. He set the steaming cups on the coffee table, just in case they woke up. He glanced at the clock- nearly midnight meant they’d been searching nonstop for over two days. It was a wonder he wasn’t passed out, too. 

“That storm is screaming,” he chuckled, tugging on his dripping hoodie string. Then the noise got louder, and all at once Lloyd realized that it wasn’t just the storm screaming. Someone or something was out there in the darkness, howling like a thousand men. The Green Ninja tore through his home, reaching the courtyard in just a moment.

Wet hair whipped in his face as he slid into the courtyard, joining the two forms already there. Even in the torrent he recognized Zane, and next to him was Cole- newly awake and standing stoic in the doorway. Lloyd pushed past him, past the open doors- and realized why exactly his teammates were so still. Shock- pure shock.

In the doorway, framed by moonlight and freezing rain, was a boy- just a boy, not much taller than himself, wavering in the mountain wind. The boy looked up, locking eyes with Lloyd. In his eyes, there was pain- and on his back, unconscious in a fireman’s carry, was Pixal.

“Help,” the boy said hoarsely, and nothing more. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell forward, narrowly caught by the three ninjas.

Zane took Pixal into his arms, running through the rain to the repair shop. Zane was as skilled as any technician, and he knew a nindroid’s systems by heart- Pixal would be fine, she was finally home and she’d be alright. Still, that left Lloyd, Cole, and the mystery boy in the rain.

“Alex?” Cole’s shaky voice snapped Lloyd back to the present. He looked down at the unconscious boy in Cole’s arms, and something clicked. He’d seen that boy before.

“Oh God, Alex! Hold on, we’re gonna get you some help!” And with that, the Master of Earth turned and carried his cargo off to the medbay, where whoever-he-was would undoubtedly be alright in the morning. Lloyd found himself alone, unneeded, and staring at a pitch-black sky.

There wasn’t much else he could do- Lloyd walked through the rain and into his room, leaving a watery trail he didn’t bother planning to clean up. His clothes were freezing and soaked through, so he left them on the floor in favor of the first set of dry clothes he could find- a stained tee shirt and some loose shorts from a week ago.

“I should take a shower,” he said to himself, collapsing on his bed. Numb and exhausted and still bitterly cold, he closed his eyes and found himself falling. 


	6. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kai's POV- all he wanted to do was take a nap, but Of Course everything goes haywire the minute he closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the weird stretch between chapters- I moved! I promise the next chapter will come out sooner! If anyone has a suggestion or some feedback, please comment!

Kai found himself in a world of fire. Tongues of flame in every color lapped across the bare landscape, red and blue and yellow dancing together beneath a starless sky. Somewhere in the darkness, a voice laughed- high and bright and familiar as a burst of orange fire danced around him, kissing him with a heat he knew he could live in forever. He laughed too, the power burning in his veins and all across the world. He could not burn, he would not burn. Nothing could burn but dirt he walked on, and everything else that stood in his way. He knew he was the king- no, the god of this world, to do with and destroy as he pleased. Unstoppable, he laughed into the curtain of ashes that had replaced the sky. I’m unstoppable!

Suddenly Kai was thrown sideways, the world shattering and sending him out of what had to be a dream, a dull pain blossoming from his cheek as he settled back into his body.

“Kai!” A voice said from somewhere above him. He raised his hands to rub his eyes, but before he could another slap connected with the side of his face. “Kai!” Jay said again, grabbing his lapels and giving him a little shake, sending the world jostling out of order. As soon as Kai opened his eyes, spotting two shadowy figures illuminated by the ceiling light, the room filled with voices.

“Pixal came back!” Nya said in a way-too-loud voice.

“There was a rainstorm! And a mysterious traveler!” Jay added, even louder.

“Traveler guy carried Pixal _up the mountain!_ He passed out!”

“Cole knows him! He called him Alex!”

“But they won’t let us in the infirmary!”

Kai sat up just in time for a very awake Lloyd to slide into the den, calling in an _even louder voice_ , like there wasn’t somebody _just waking up._

“They’re waking up!” he shouted into the room, clutching the doorway for balance. “Pixal and Alex- they’re waking up! Come quick!” 

It was like another bomb went off in the room. Jay and Nya and Lloyd, all still screaming, tore out of the room and into the hall like their lives depended on it, leaving Kai still on the floor and still tired, but with a steadily growing headache.

“I can’t take a _nap_ without shit going sideways,” Kai grumbled under his breath. Getting up from the floor was a little harder than he’d thought- the past two days of searching had left his muscles hard as rocks and sore as… well, he couldn’t think of something that was really sore, but he sure felt it. He cracked all the necessary joints- back, ankles, wrists, neck, knuckles- before heading out into the hallway. The hardwood floor creaked comfortingly as he made his way down the hall, arguing with himself which he needed more at the moment- answers, or breakfast. 

Zane was going to be with Pixal anyway, so whatever breakfast there was wasn’t going to be worth it. He turned toward the infirmary just in time for a string of curse words to hit the air. He started running.

He slid into the infirmary, and nearly into his sister- only stopping just before he bowled into her. The cause of the cursing became obvious when he looked around the room. Instead of blood, or a corpse, or an army of shapeshifting snake-men, there was just Cole; angry, holding his foot, and still glaring at the bowl of water he’d dropped. With a wave of her hand, Nya put all of the spilled water back into the bowl, and Cole gave her a grateful smile and a nod before leaning down and picking it up again. It crossed Kai’s mind for a moment to ask what exactly the bowl was for when Cole turned around and revealed-

Kai gasped. On the cot, sleeping in a patch of sunlight, was a boy. He was about Kai’s age- blonde and skinny and pale with a splash of freckles across his nose.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous,” Nya said, earning a hurt look from Jay and an elbow in the ribs from Lloyd. 

“Of course he is!” Lloyd whispered, gesturing frantically to the young man in the cot. “That’s not just any Alex!”

As he looked closer, Kai realized he recognized ‘Alex’ from somewhere. Maybe a movie, or a TV show, but definitely from _somewhere._ Cole dipped a cloth in the cool water, not bothering to wring it out before applying it to Alex’s forehead, which just ended up soaking his face.

“Come on, you nut,” Cole muttered, “I know you’re still alive. Wake up so I can yell at you.”

All of a sudden Alex’s face twitched- once, twice, and then he was laughing. His teeth, it was impossible not to notice, were perfect and white as snow. Kai stole a glance at Cole’s face, and he nearly laughed too. Cole looked like he was about to melt right into the floor.

“Pebble,” Alex said in a hoarse voice, “always with the pep talks.”

Cole snagged a dry cloth off of a nearby rack, muttering how he knew the blonde was too stupid to die, and the questions started.

“Pebble?” Jay started in a confused tone.

“How do you know Cole?” Nya spoke over him.

“Where do I know you from?” Kai interrupted his sister, pushing past them to get a better look at Alex, still chuckling as Cole wiped his face dry.

“Alexander? Are you all right?” came a voice from behind that Kai couldn’t help but turn and face. Pixal, home and alive and all fixed up- tailed closely by a still concerned Zane.

_“Pebble?”_ Jay said again, louder.

Cole looked back at them, and then at Alex again. The blonde in the bed gave a close imitation of a shrug while still being mostly paralyzed with pain, and Cole waved the rest of them over.

“One at a time,” he said sternly, to both the ninja and Alex, before shuffling away and taking a place at the back of the crowd. The room was silent for a moment, each of the ninja prodding the others to get the conversation started. Kai was painfully aware of Alex smiling politely at them, and from the look in his eyes he was aware of the awkwardness, too.

“So,” Kai started, immediately regretting it. “...Have I seen you in anything? You seem really familiar.”

With that, an electric-green comet slid to the front of the group, holding a bundle of posters and trinkets. Lloyd shoved a few figurines into Kai’s arms to hold, and it was then that he finally recognized the boy in the bed- he felt a little stupid for taking so long to realize, he’d seen those movies at least a million times.

“You were in the _Stairway to Hell!_ movies” 

“He was more than _in_ them! He _starred_ in them!” Lloyd was nearly bouncing with excitement as he scrambled with his posters. “Mr. St. Gail, I am your _biggest_ fan- I’ve seen all your movies, read every comic-” He dropped a poster, and nearly whacked his head trying to pick it up again, and even from the back Kai saw his face turn red. “I’m really excited to meet you,” he said, his voice quietly embarrassed. 

Alex (Alexander St. Gail, the movie-slash-musical-star. Holy _shit_ ) smiled slowly, wincing as he did.

“The Green Ninja is a fan of _me_ ,” he said, disbelief clear in his raspy voice, “now _that_ I didn’t expect. The honor is all mine, Mr. Garmadon- I’d shake your hand if everything didn’t hurt so much.”

“Oh, please,” Lloyd said, going even more red, “Mr. Garmadon is my dad. Call me Lloyd.”

“And Mr. St. Gail was my uncle,” Alex replied, trying to lift his hand and failing, “Call me Alex.” He cleared his throat again, coughing a few times. His vocal chords must’ve been absolutely shot- Kai had heard him sing plenty of times on TV, and the voice Alex spoke with was nothing like his usual one.

Kai felt himself pushed to the side as Cole bustled past him, holding a steaming cup of some sort of tea. It smelled minty, and it had a straw it it- maybe a healing tea, or something for his voice.

“Drink _all_ of this, Bee.” he instructed, like he was making a child take medicine, “and if you try to get up before you’re healed, I’ll break your leg.”

“Not much more damage to be done, Pebble.” Despite the threat, Alex simply chuckled, but obediently started drinking. Kai exchanged glances with his teammates, finding most of them just as confused as he was. However, there were a few exceptions; Cole still had a warm smile, Lloyd was still deeply starstruck, and Pixal wore a genuine smile that told him this was somehow the norm for them. Bee? _Pebble?_ How in the world did Cole hide this guy from them for so long? Before Kai could ask, Alex drained the cup and started testing out his voice again- newly healed and once again smooth as butter.

“Thanks,” he said to Cole, shifting up into a sitting position with just a little help. He turned to the rest of the Ninja, and addressed them all in turn. “Oh wow, the papers really don’t do you justice- but Cole’s told me all about you. Kai, Master of Fire,” he offered a hand that Kai took and shook, “Sorry, but I’ve gotta ask- how much hair gel do you use every day?”

“Not too much,” Kai replied with his usual confidence, and they shared a laugh. Nya was next, and they complimented each other’s hair like they’ve been friends forever. Alex and Lloyd promised to sign each other’s posters, and the whole situation was so weird Kai didn’t pay attention to whatever Alex and Zane said to each other. Superpowered ninjas talking to a movie star on Sunday morning like it was the most normal thing in the world. _How could it possibly get weirder than this?_

“Oh, hi Jay! How’ve you been?” Alex said brightly, giving the Master of Lightning a fist-bump.

What.

Alex’s eyes slipped to Kai, and suddenly he was laughing again. If Kai was a nindroid, he would’ve short-circuited. How the hell did two of his closest friends not only know a damn movie star, but they’ve both kept that secret for _years_? Not once did either of them offer Kai a backstage pass, which he was honestly pissed about.

“‘Scuse me,” he said, muscling his way to the front of the group, “but what is happening?”

Alex gave him a bright smile and punched Cole on the arm, which earned him a disgruntled look.

“Cole, you didn’t tell them about me?” Alex said in a dramatic, teasing voice. “I’m hurt! What of the years we spent together? Do you not need me anymore?”

Cole sighed in defeat and pulled up a nearby stool. “Alex and I were roommates at the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts- we’ve been pen pals ever since I left to become a ninja.” He gave Alex a little punch on the shoulder, “Was that good enough, Your Majesty?”

“You could’ve mentioned how I was your best friend for nearly ten years, but thanks.” Alex replied cheekily before turning his attention to Jay, who explained that Alex had been a contestant of his game show a few years back. Kai tried to process all the new information as Pixal strolled to the front of the group. He dimly registered Alex and Pixal interrogating each other on their respective injuries, and they both seemed satisfied with how they felt.

Their conversation was interrupted, however, by Alex’s stomach growling- _loudly_ . His face turned red, but nobody else was embarrassed- instead, they all seemed to realize that Alex, who had carried a metal lady _up a mountain_ , would most likely be more than a little peckish. They all ran in different directions; Zane and Pixal went off to the kitchen, Jay and Nya shot off to the living quarters shouting something about new clothes, and Lloyd went off in the opposite direction to get a pen and assumably some more merchandise. 

Kai took one look at the only two people left in the room- Cole and Alex, both refusing to look at each other- and walked right out of the room.

_Good luck, rockhead,_ he thought, and went to go help with breakfast.

  
  



	7. Trouble in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is awake and cheery as ever- and only one person knows he's lying.

For half a second, Alexander thought he had died and wound up in paradise. 

In the past week, he’d been steamed in his own sweat, coated in grainy sand, and baked under the sun. He felt a little like a dumpling. Of course, that was before Pixal had some kind of episode on the mountain and he had to carry six hundred pounds of friend the rest of the way.

He remembered that clearly. One second, Pix had been laughing with him as they climbed the unnecessarily long staircase to the monastery. The next, she hit the ground twitching and unconscious. Whether it was something with the wiring in her leg, or the rain getting into her systems, something was clearly wrong and he couldn’t afford to wait for someone to find them. He couldn’t take the chance. So, he balanced his new friend on his shoulders and started upward again. After that, he felt like a dumpling that someone had stepped on. Repeatedly.

The last thing he remembered before waking up in the soft, warm-vanilla room was the horrified look on a young man’s face, platinum blonde hair plastered over his face as he skidded to a stop in the rain- a face Alex had seen in the papers. Somebody familiar said his name, and his heart twisted in his chest, and the world went to black.

“You okay?”

The same voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he wished he could go back again. He turned his head to find Cole, holding another cup of that minty tea. The smell of it made him nauseous, too close to peppermint for comfort. He glanced at the other boy’s face, and saw regret.

“Try holding your breath,” Cole suggested, “it dampens the smell.”

It took two tries, but Alex managed to grab the cup- and he nearly winced when his hand brushed Cole’s. He knocked it back in two seconds flat, taking the tea like a shot, and another wave of healing energy rushed through him. It was a weird feeling- he could sense the individual muscles in his arms and legs knitting themselves back together, his nausea suddenly gone. By the time the other boy took the cup back, he felt well enough to swing his legs over the side of the cot.

“Oh, no.” Cole said immediately, “back in bed, Bumblebee. You need to heal.” 

Again with the _Bee._ He hasn’t forgotten, either. Alex wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. Part of him liked it- fitting into their old routines like long lost puzzle pieces, like they were kids again. The other, more logical part of him wanted to start running and not stop. He couldn’t _afford_ going back to that mindset any more than he could afford staying in one place. 

“I’m healed enough for _breakfast_ , Pebble,” he grumbled, but allowed Cole to push his legs back onto the bed. 

With that, they had run out of things to say to each other, or at least things they could say out loud. _I missed you_ was absolutely out of the question for so many reasons.

“It’s lunch, actually.” Cole said quietly, glancing at the clock on the wall. “It’s noon.”

Alex didn’t have to think to realize. By the best guess he could make, he’d shown up with Pixal just a little before midnight, which meant-

“Twelve hours?” It almost didn’t seem real. The vanilla med bay shining with sunlight, and the time lapse, and Cole- it was like a dream, except Alex never had dreams this cheery.

Cole nodded gravely. Alex expected him to fold his arms, turn away- be as dismissive as he himself was being. Instead, the strongman kneeled at his bedside.

“Hey,” he said, and when Alex didn’t look he tried again. “ _Hey,_ ” 

Alex felt his hand being taken. He looked, and suddenly the world melted away. For as much as it mattered, everything was dark skin and green eyes.

“Let me worry about you again, okay? Just for a little while.” Cole’s voice was barely a whisper in the still air, and when he said _“Please”_ just for a moment he swore they were back in their dorm at the Oppenheimer, like old times. But it wasn’t the old times anymore, and Alex looked away, squeezing a blink to keep the thoughts straight in his head.

“Okay,” he said, softer than he’d meant to. The pressure on his hand didn’t let up, and he could feel those perfect green eyes boring into him. 

No. No more chances.

“ _Okay,_ ” he said again, forcing sharpness into the word and wrenching his hand away. That did it. Cole backed away, with something mixing in the confusion on his face. 

He told himself it was anger, and trained his eyes on the window. He could hear Cole bustling around in the background; pacing, fidgeting, and one sound that Alex could swear was a pencil on paper. It didn’t matter what it was, because under that noise he could hear footsteps coming toward the door. He braced himself with a smile, and the door flew open.

First into the door was Jay, dramatically sliding in with a picnic basket on his arm. The Smith siblings came next, doing jazz hands as they set up a folding table. Alex was already laughing by the time Zane broke into song; a truly impressive _Hello My Baby_ while setting the table, with Lloyd accompanying on kazoo.

“From Alexander’s reaction, I believe your showmanship was satisfactory,” Pixal said, stifling a giggle of her own. All Alex could do was nod, tears of laughter making the world blend into watercolors. He wiped them away, finding a delicious-smelling soup on the tray by his cot. He gave it a sniff, trying to discern the recipe. Potatoes, maybe?

“I hoped my performance would make up for the meal.” Zane said, and then whispered, “ _Leftovers._ ”

“Well, it smells great.” Alex tried a spoonful, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “And it tastes even better!”

Zane smiled, and the others agreed. Alex busied himself with his soup, but it wasn’t long before the questions started again.

“So, Alex…” Lloyd said, grabbing some chips from a bowl on the table, “why were you in the desert, anyway?”

Ignoring Cole’s staring, Alex reminded himself to smile. “That wasn’t really my plan. See, I wanted to take a break from everything and take some time off at my Uncle’s cabin.”

Cole caught his eye, giving him a confused look for the ages. _You’re Uncle’s cabin is the other way?,_ he mouthed.

 _I’m getting to that part,_ Alex mouthed back.

“I took a train, but I got into a tussle with some asshole in an eyepatch. Next thing you know my watch is gone and I’m in the desert.” He shrugged and took a sip of water. “He left me with my credit card, so that’s cool.”

It took a few moments for him to look up. In his defense, it was really good soup. When he did look back over the table, everyone was in varying stages of shock; from Cole’s ‘unsurprised but furious’ to Jay’s ‘absolute panic’. 

“Alexander,” Pixel said, studying his face, “...how often has this happened?”

“The desert thing? Only once.” He took another bite of soup, mentally noting to ask for the recipe before he left. “But of all the times I’ve been mugged, it was the first one where the guy started talking about his kid _during_ the mugging. I swear that man was two seconds away from pulling out his wallet and showing me pictures.”

“Of _all the times?”_ Nya almost shouted, glancing over to watch her brother furiously text somebody. Alexander glanced around the room, finding everyone still shocked. There really wasn’t a Shakespeare quote for this.

“Guys,” he said bluntly, “I’m a famous actor with a multimillion dollar fortune and the reputation of being a handsome airhead. People see me as an easy target for robbery.” For what had to be the first time that morning, he looked down at himself- finding a plain white tee shirt instead of his yellow robes. Thankfully, he was still wearing his pants. “Speaking of robbery, where’s my stuff?” He glared at Cole, who was looking a little too smug, but it was Pixal that answered.

“Your belongings have been taken to the guest room. They will be returned to you _after_ you have been discharged from the med bay.”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“Not enough to gauge your own healing process. Cole has informed me of more than one time when you’ve pushed yourself too far.”

Alex shot him a glare, but it was too late. He was already talking.

“Sprained ankles, fractured wrists, that time you tried the Triple Tiger Sashay at nine years old-”

“I only broke two ribs.” Alex snapped. 

“That’s the point!”

“I still had like 20 other ribs!”

_“That is entirely my point!”_

Somebody clapped their hands and announced dessert. Why lunch needed desert was beyond Alex for multiple reasons, and only one of them was realizing that in the last few moments he and Cole had gotten _entirely too close to each other._ He didn’t remember when he started moving, but now their faces were so close to each other that he could pick out the little flecks of gold in Cole’s eyes. He slunk back into his seat on the bed, and this time he wasn’t chastised for moving. He glanced back over the table, finding Jay missing from the audience. Most likely, he’d gone back into the kitchen to get whatever lunch-dessert was. Alex stuck his tongue out at Cole, and smiled when he got one back, if only to relieve the tension.

“So!” Kai said awkwardly, clearly still not used to having him in the room. “What’s it like up at your Uncle’s cabin? Must be nice seeing family after working in the city so long.”

The nausea from before hit again, hard, and suddenly he regretted eating at all. Alex’s face must have changed without him noticing- he only caught a glimpse of the regret on Kai’s face before he forced himself to look down. The tablecloth, he realized, had little birds printed on it. Falcons, like the ones he used to chase through the forest when he was still too young to know he hated flying.

Under the table, he felt his hand being taken again. Cole gave his hand a squeeze, grounding him to reality, and he needed it too badly to draw his hand away.

“My uncle died when I was eight.” he said, not bothering to take in a breath before starting. There was no use playing with words at this point. He wasn’t _gone_ and he didn’t _pass_. Uncle Jim died, and that was the truth. “I was heading up to his old cabin to fix it up, make it pretty again. I haven’t been there since Mr. Gordon took me in as an apprentice.”

Except once, and that was a day he never wanted to remember. Unfortunately, it was also a day Cole almost certainly remembered.

A shattering sound broke his concentration, and Alex didn’t have to look up to know the sound; china on tile, like a dropped plate- or a cup hurled at the floor of an unfeeling auditorium.

“Oh wow!” Jay slid into his chair, trying desperately to look casual as he parceled out the remaining plates. Next to him, being cut by Zane with an unnecessarily large knife, was a huge cake coated in chocolate ganache frosting. “So, what was it like working with Cliff Gordon? Was he cool?”

Alex tried his best to politely push his plate away. Potato soup was already way too many carbs for one meal, and with a lunch like this who _knows_ what these people eat for dinner. Still, it was nice to remember. In the corner of his mind, he flashed back to the first time they’d met. 

_You’re something special, Alexander. I can see it. It’s in your blood- will you let me make you a star?_

“He was...the greatest,” Alex said softly. “From day one, he knew exactly what to do to get me to work.” He gave a little glance around the table, finding Jay listening intently. “He was strict, yet generous, and he never let me get too comfortable. Always pressing forward, never looking back. He gave me everything I could ever want. Without him, I wouldn’t be half the actor I am today. He also made some mean pancakes.”

He looked up, and everyone was smiling. 

Another squeeze to his hand, and he looked. Cole wasn’t smiling. The others broke off into their conversations, even Pixal turned away to talk to Zane. He turned back to the strongman in black.

 _You’re lying again,_ Cole mouthed- and for the first time Alex noticed the concern on his face. Leave it to Cole to be empathetic toward a liar.

 _Leave it alone,_ he mouthed back. There wasn’t time for any of this. He wondered how much of that tea he’d have to drink before he could finally run down the mountain and never look back.

They started a cheery conversation about the weather, their lessons showing through perfectly. Cole commented about the rain and Alex made a joke about forgetting his boots and they both laughed like they weren’t liars.

He didn’t even notice that their hands were still entwined.


	8. Stay A Little Longer (Or Else)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note on how I write Pixal here: I really wish we got to see more of Pix's humor in the show. This is the lady who stole Nya's Samurai X armor, and instead of just disappearing with it chose to loiter around the cave for a little, swapping voices and playing a guessing game with Nya. Go watch that scene again with the knowledge that Pix is in the armor. It's hilarious.

She’d only known him for a day, but Pixal already knew she liked Alexander. They were, as she once read in a phrase book, ‘fast friends’. How could they not be, with so much in common? 

He had that dry, deprecating sense of humor she could always build a joke on. Thinking on it now, she had no problem imagining him as Juliet- making a fool of himself in a pretty pink dress, knowing full well the double meaning of every line in the play. 

“Pixal, hold still,” Zane said, exasperated, as he fiddled with the wires in her leg. He’d been finished for half an hour, but somehow he’d managed to come up with twelve different things he still needed to check in her internal wiring. 

“I can repair my own wiring, Zane.” she huffed, trying not to cross her arms.

“I know,” he said softly, “I just want to make sure my heart stays whole this time.”

She couldn’t tell if it was worry or guilt or something else in his voice- but he was always remarkably cute when he got like that. Finally, the main panel on her leg slid closed. She flexed her ankle, testing out the joint, and before anything else could happen she leaned over and gave Zane a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh!” he stammered, and she could swear she heard one of his cooling fans kick on- but she was too busy running as fast as she could out of the repair bay, stifling a giggle as the image of his embarrassed face replayed in her headset. 

“Pixal! Slow down!” she heard him call after her, and it wasn’t long before she started hearing a second set of footsteps. “That was _entirely_ not fair!”

That just made her laugh more. If he thought she was going to slow down after three days of ‘taking it easy’, he needed to check his reasoning processor. She took a sharp turn, sliding into the courtyard and effortlessly flipping over the dragon statue.

Despite her more logical nature, she let out a _whoop_ as she landed, exhilarated by her newly repaired range of motion. She landed perfectly, of course, without even a stumble as she threw her hands above her head.

“And another twenty points for Pixal as she sticks the landing!” 

Pixal didn’t have to look to know who had spoken, but she was glad that she looked anyway- Alexander, on his feet and smiling again, dodging out of the way of a very annoyed Master of Earth.

“Get!” Cole snapped as he reached for his blonde friend. “Back! Here!”

Alexander laughed, dancing gracefully out of reach. The healing tea was definitely working. A few days ago, that same young man had trouble holding a cup himself, but now he was up and annoying his childhood friend like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

Cole made another unsuccessful swipe at him, and Pixal stifled a laugh- and that was the distraction Cole needed to finally get a grip on his prey.

“I’m not getting in that cot again!” Alexander said defiantly, twisting around and trying to get loose, but Cole had a solid handful of his white shirt and at least half a foot of height on him. 

A cold hand caught her shoulder, but she wasn’t trying to run anymore- she was too busy watching Alexander try to escape.

When it became apparent he wasn’t getting away without losing his shirt, he gave her a crooked smile, and before she could blink he was on the other side of the courtyard, cackling.

She glanced at Cole, whose laughter had suddenly ceased, holding an empty shirt. Instead, he looked like someone had just hit him with a very large brick- and she had the sneaking suspicion that if she had night vision installed, his cheeks would be glowing.

It wasn’t hard to see why. 

“Oh my _god_.” Lloyd said from somewhere Pixal couldn’t see, and she heard at least one other gasp from somewhere else in the courtyard.

In his white linen pants, he looked like a martial artist in a movie. Come to think of it, didn’t he play a role like that? It certainly suited him. Defined muscles and a light tan gave him a traditional ‘famous’ look, and he clearly wasn’t shy about it. 

“Okay, fine. Gawk at the movie star,” Alexander said, putting his hands on his hips to expose his chest. “Take your time, don’t be shy… unless _somebody_ wants to toss me a shirt?” He took a hair tie from around his wrist and put his hair back in a small ponytail. Nobody tossed him a shirt.

“Humans and their muscles,” she whispered to Zane. “Do we ever get that worked up over wiring?”

“Only yours, my dear,” he promised, and she smiled as he kissed her on the forehead.

Alexander, still shirtless and waiting, started picking at the waistline of his pants, which could have meant a number of things- but at that very moment, it seemed he was impatient. 

He gave one more look at Cole (still visibly processing what was happening) and one more crooked smile in Pixal’s direction. She made the mistake of blinking, and he was gone again.

“Hey!” Cole, suddenly able to move again, tore after him into the building. Ninja popped out of nowhere, running after them both and laughing all the way. Zane took a step forward, but she grabbed his wrist.

“I know where he’s going,” she explained, and tugged him over to the bedrooms. Of course she knew where he was going- she’s the one who hid his belongings. The last room on the left (wasn’t it always the last room on the left in movies?) had his plain blue backpack still on the bed. Good, that meant they were early. The two nindroids took the far corner, leaning on the walls and waiting for whatever chaos was coming.

“This will be quite the mess when they’re done,” Zane muttered, casting a glance at the broom in the other corner.

“Maybe, but it’ll be fun to watch out-of-practice ninja battle a barely-healed movie star.”

He smiled at her- and she remembered again just how much she loved his smile. White as snow and unavoidably contagious; she couldn’t help but smile back. 

The footsteps in the hallway got louder and louder, and she turned down her audio receptors just in case. Two seconds later, when the screaming started, she turned them down a little more.

Alexander burst through the door, sliding in and immediately grabbing his backpack. A rainbow of ninja came in after him, fighting their way through the doorway.

“Alexander Beau St. Gail,” Cole growled, shoving his teammates aside, “If you don’t get back to resting _right now-_ ”

“You’ll what?” Alexander cut him off, glaring and leaning against the wall, his backpack already solidly on his shoulders. He paused, waiting for an answer that never came. The two parties fell quiet, neither daring to move. 

The nindroids shifted their gaze from the ninja to the movie star and back again, like they were watching a tennis match.

“He’s as stubborn as you are,” Zane whispered in Pixal’s ear. She didn’t respond- just one more reason she liked having Alexander around.

“Alexander!” she called from the sidelines, “How’s your wrist?”

“How’s the leg?” he replied immediately, giving her a quick thumbs-up. He turned to the others, giving them a dramatic little bow. “Thank you all for the tea and incessant nagging, but if I have to spend one more hour in that damn cot I’m gonna jump in from of a car.”

It was clearly meant to be a joke, but the way Cole reacted- his shoulders tightening, leaning forward like he was about to pounce- made her wonder if something had happened at the Oppenheimer that neither of them had told her yet. On the other hand, if that was true, then why on earth would he joke about something like that?

“You’re leaving?”

Everyone turned and looked at where the voice was coming from. The crowd of ninja parted, leaving just a blue one that suddenly looked much smaller than he was. She didn’t know why Jay looked so upset, but she could certainly hear it in his voice. 

Across the room, Alexander visibly deflated, the confidence draining out of him like he’d sprung a leak. He leaned back against the wall and dropped his eyes, saying nothing. The room went silent.

A message popped up in her headset. It was from Zane.

_“Pixal, are you sure there is nothing else keeping Alexander here?”_

She locked her facial features in place before replying. Anyone looking at either of them would see two blank stares.

_“That entirely depends on whether or not he’s fully healed. After he’s discharged from the med bay there’s really nothing we can do to stop him.”_

_“What about a blood test? He was in the desert for several days- he could have picked something up?”_

_“That’s ridiculous. The tea would have cleared anything up.”_

She spared a glance up and found Cole across the room. He and Alexander muttered to each other, and she could only pick out one word. A very tired _please,_ so low she couldn’t discern who had said it. Another message popped up.

_“I know that, and you know that, but does Alexander?”_

It was at times like these when she was reminded of why she loved Zane so much. She unlocked her features, and gave his hand a quick squeeze before waving to get everyone’s attention.

“Alexander, if you’d follow me,” she said, turning and walking away without another word. As she expected, several sets of footsteps followed her as she went confidently into the med bay. “It seems we’ve missed something. Before we discharge you fully from our care, I need to run a blood test.”

She turned around, and as expected Alexander opened his mouth to question her, notably without his backpack on his shoulders anymore. Then it hit him, and all of the color drained from his face. She felt a little guilty, exploiting his fears like this, but if Alexander left now who knows what trouble he could get himself into. 

Besides, it was clear everyone else wanted to keep him around too, especially Cole. She wasn’t sure what had happened back at the Oppenheimer, but she made a note to keep Alexander away from traffic. She waved him over to a seat and went to go get the needle. 

She’d done blood tests before, mostly on the ninja. They always managed to get themselves stuck in the most sticky, unsanitary, bug-infested places in the universe- and if one of them died from a virus, she would never forgive herself. She grabbed a syringe from the supply closet, as small as she could find while still doing it’s job. She only needed a small amount, after all.

She poked her head out of the closet before entering the room again. Alexander, still pale as a ghost, but listening to Jay tell a funny story. He chuckled, and Pixal was amazed at how at ease he seemed. The way he’d described it in the desert, he was terrified of even the _thought_ of needles, let alone getting blood drawn, but there he was laughing like nothing in the world could hurt him-

 _Oh_. She made eye contact with Cole, and he nodded like he knew what she was thinking. It’s an act. Alexander, terrified as he must be, was still acting like he was fine. His eyes wandered over to her, but the expression on his face didn’t change. He smiled pleasantly as she approached.

“Can you tell I’m nervous?” he asked, his voice still smooth as she came closer with the needle.

“Not at all. If you’d rather close your eyes, it’ll just take a second.” she promised, taking the seat next to him. In the corner of her vision, she could pick out every concerned face in the group. Cole’s hands kept twitching, like he wanted to do something, but he never did.

Alexander nodded, and took a few breaths as she cleaned the entry point.

“Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd,” he said as the needle found its mark, his eyes closed. “Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined, Harpier cries ‘tis time! ‘Tis time!”

He had said that he had a knack for Macbeth. The sun ducked behind the clouds, bathing the med bay in a thin blanket of darkness.

“Round about the cauldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone, days and nights has thirty-one, sweltered venom sleeping got. Boil thou first in the charmed pot.”

Despite the dark blood that filled the vial, she could swear there was a smile on his lips. To her surprise, Cole chimed in for the last line. They said it together, perfectly. Chillingly.

“Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

“Done!” she declared, and all at once the spell was broken. The sun, as if on cue, came out from behind the clouds and the med bay was once again brightened from the outside in. She held up her prize- a vial, no bigger than her little finger, filled with scarlet blood. “We should get complete results in a few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Alexander said, shocked. He surged out of his chair, took a step-

Something happened. Maybe he was not as healed as he had led them to believe. Maybe his blood sugar was low. Maybe it didn’t matter, as he slumped forward where he stood. Cole was already there, catching him as he fell, muttering to himself.

“Every time,” she heard as he turned toward the door, with Alexander in his arms. The others followed him out of the room, trailing behind like lost ducklings.

At least he wasn’t going back in the cot.

She took her little vial into the next room, plugging it into a machine to begin testing. It would be days before even the first few tests yielded results, and hopefully Alexander would be fully recovered by then. She wondered how much of his recovery was an act, but shrugged it off. The blood would tell her everything in due time.

Hopefully, those few days would be enough for Alexander to forgive her, but if they were alike as she thought they were, it wouldn’t be that easy. 

All she could do at the moment was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Alex is mostly fine.
> 
> Join us next time for an exciting new episode of Alexander Has Been Hurt, Badly And Repeatedly!
> 
> P.S. school is starting up again, so chapter postings will likely get farther apart. Make sure to comment if you want to see something specific in this fic. I have a basic plan, but it changes all the time.


	9. The Father, The Son, and the Trophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay's gone through a lot in the past few years, the least of which was finding out that he's adopted. Still, with answers so close, he can't help but ask- no matter how much he might regret it.

Jay took another deep breath. Why was he so nervous? There was no logical reason why he should be so nervous. He’d met the guy several times in the past, and they’d been friends back then. He clutched his cargo a little tighter under his arm and stared at the door in front of him, just like every other door in the hallway- nothing special or dangerous about it at all. So, again, why was he nervous?

Maybe it’s because the last time they’d met, Jay still thought the Walkers were his parents.

Of course, they were still his  _ parents _ \- they’d fed him and clothed him and cheered him on through all of his adventures. He loved them, and his life wouldn’t be complete without them, and that was the truth.

But still, there was a nagging in the back of his head. Every time sparks danced across his fingertips, every time he glanced at his old movie poster collection, some part of him wondered.

_ What were they like? Were they happy? Who was she?  _

And always, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself he didn’t care, he landed on the same thought.

_ Why didn’t they want me? _

He’d run out of time to even ask- he’d only found out about them when Nadakhan messed with the timeline. His father-  _ biological  _ father was dead, and he had no idea who his mother was. He had never even gotten to ask either of them, and until recently had resigned himself to a life of never answered what-ifs.

He’d never considered asking Alex before.

He felt more than a little foolish, standing in front of the last room on the left and taking slow breaths, but he couldn’t help it. On the other side of this door might be the only answers he could ever get to who his father really was. He ran a hand through his hair, and when he looked at it again he found it shaking, nervous sparks arcing between his fingers.

“Breathe, Jay,” he whispered to himself, forcing his hand to his side. “ _ Breathe _ .”

He leaned a little closer to the door, and only then did he hear something under his own panicking. It wasn’t very loud- even with his ear up to the door he could barely hear it- but someone was definitely humming on the other side of the door. Jay held his breath to hear it better. Soft and slow, like a lullaby. He listened for a little while, but he didn’t recognize the melody.

Suddenly, the song cut off. Jay heard someone cursing through the door. 

“Now or never,” he whispered, and forced himself to knock.

The cursing stopped at once, and then after a beat he heard someone say ‘come in’. The doorknob twisted easily, and Jay stepped into the last room on the left.

Empty, was his first thought. The room was kept plain for guests, as opposed to the brightly decorated regular rooms, but it was clear Alex made no intention of making the room his own. The plain blue backpack he had come with was still full, sitting on the bedside table. Alex himself was sitting on the bed with his hands in his lap, looking down.

“Alex?” Jay tried, taking a small step into the room. “You okay?”

He hummed in response, holding up his hands for Jay to see. One thumb had a shallow gash in the fingerpad, and the other held a tissue soaked with blood.

“I had a little accident with my carving,” he explained.

Carving? Jay took another few steps closer, glancing around the room. On the corner of the bed, he realized, there was a little block of wood and a small knife with blood on its blade. Jay reached for the wooden block, but stopped before he made contact. Maybe this was another something personal. He’d only met Alex a few times, but he knew well enough that Alex had lots of personal stuff he’d rather not talk about, at least upon first meeting.

Like his life before the Oppenheimer, or the scar on his shin he always tried to hide, or why he couldn’t use regular toothpaste. Or Cole, for that matter, and whatever they kept whispering about. 

He glanced back at Alex, who just gave him a shrug and went back to tending his injured thumb. Okay. Jay reached back and grabbed the little wooden block, turning it around so he could see the beginnings of the carving. He put his own cargo down to get a closer look.

“Aww,” he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “it’s a raccoon!” He traced his thumb over the creatures’ carved mask, and the beginning of what he guessed were going to be its little hands. “Where’d you learn this stuff?”

“My Uncle taught me,” Alex said after a moment, and Jay could hear the smile in his voice. Right- the dead uncle with the cabin. 

“What else did he teach you?” Jay carefully relocated the half-finished raccoon and the knife to the nightstand, careful to not get any blood on his hands. He turned, finding Alex with a little smile on his face, his brows knit together.

“Lots of stuff,” he started, wrapping his injured thumb in the tissue, “but I don’t think you came in here to ask about my Uncle.”

Jay opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Instead, he went to the foot of the bed again and picked up what he came in with.

“Actually, I was thinking we could play chess,” he said, giving the closed board a little shake to jostle the pieces inside. “You know how to play?”

“Of course,” said Alex, raising an eyebrow, “but wouldn’t you rather play with your teammates?”

“I thought you’d be bored in here,” he replied, gesturing around the plain room. “Y’know, since you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

Alex glared at the wall, as if Cole could feel it all the way in the den. He’d been regulated to the guest room since that morning’s blood test incident, and if he was desperate enough to start carving then he was clearly bored enough for a board game.

“Sure.”

Jay smiled and scooted onto the bed, sitting opposite Alex criss-cross applesauce. He set up the board, giving himself the white pieces and Alex the black ones. He looked up to find Alex already looking down at the board, deep in thought. Jay didn’t have to think for very long because for as long as he could remember, he’d started every chess game the same. He grabbed the pawn on the far right and moved it two spaces forward.

“So,” he tried to sound casual as his hand returned to his lap. “What else  _ did  _ your uncle teach you?”

“Lots of stuff,” Alex said again- but this time, to Jay’s joy, he elaborated. “Carving, how to build a fire, hunt, use an axe- all the skills you need to survive in the woods.” He grabbed one of his own pawns, the one in front of his king, and moved it forward. 

Jay hummed in acknowledgement, his hand hovering over his pieces. “The woods? Must’ve been pretty up there. What was your Uncle like?” he pushed another pawn forward, the one on the far left.

“What is this, an interrogation?” Alex asked, but answered anyway. “He was great. He told me stories, took me on fishing trips, loved everything I did. Used to say I was a fairy child.”

“Fairy child?”

“Whenever I started acting up- couldn’t focus or sit still, or when I kept forgetting what I was doing,” he explained, eyeing his pawns, “he’d have me go chop wood. Something simple and repetitive, keeping me grounded. Does that make sense?”

It certainly did, at least to Jay. His parents used to do the same thing- sending him out to try a new invention whenever he couldn’t focus. It took a few months with the ninja before he realized it wasn’t normal.

“Of course,” Alex said, choosing a pawn on the right side of the board, “that was before I found out that ADHD was a thing.” He pushed it two squares forward, and for the first time looked Jay directly in the face, smiling.

HIs eyes, Jay realized, weren’t quite blue like he’d thought. In the light of the room, they looked almost gray. There was a phrase for it, but he couldn’t remember it before Alex spoke again.

“Alright, your turn. What are your parents like?”

Jay grabbed his knight and jumped it forward. “They’re awesome. They’re the most selfless people I know. They found a baby on their doorstep, and decided to raise me instead of dumping me in the foster system. It was pretty weird, growing up in a scrapyard, but It’s home.”

When Alex didn’t respond, Jay looked up from the board.

“Cole mentioned the scrapyard in his letters,” Alex said, his eyes darting over the board, “but he never mentioned you were adopted, too.”

“Too?”

“My uncle took me in after my mom died.”

Oh. First his mom, then his uncle- was there anyone in this guys’ family who wasn’t dead?

“What about your dad?” he tried, tapping his pieces.

“Not in the picture,” Alex replied, selecting another pawn. “I once asked Uncle Jim about him, and that was the day I learned what the ‘f-word’ was.” he barked a laugh, twirling the pawn in his hand. “ After Mom died, I guess he couldn’t handle it and dumped me on my uncle.” he slammed the pawn back on the board, rattling the pieces and making Jay’s queen topple. Alex cringed. “Sorry.”

“No problem!” Jay said a little too fast, righting his queen. “Next question?”

Alex gave him a tight smile, putting his hands back in his lap. He thought for a second, staring down at his little king. 

“Alright, don’t judge me for this one. I read a rumor in a tabloid. How are you and Nya?”

Jay smiled wide, patting his knees excitedly. Finally, someone else to brag to!

“I asked her to be my Yang,” he said, bouncing in his seat, “and she said yes!”

Alex cracked a smile, reaching over and patting Jay’s shoulder. “That’s great, man! That’s really awesome.” his smile turned into a smirk, and he reached up to put his hand on his chin. “Am I invited to the wedding?” he asked dramatically.

“Why of course,” Jay said in the same voice, miming like he was straightening a bow tie. “I wouldn’t dream of forgetting the talented Mr. St. Gail.”

That cracked them both up, jostling the bed enough to send chess pieces rolling in all different directions.

“Oh god, again with the ‘Mr. St. Gail’.” the blonde snorted, “It makes me sound like I’m forty.”

“Once, a little girl called me Sir. I swear I aged thirty years.”

They laughed for a while, the chessboard forgotten.

“Alright, Jay,” Alex said, leaning back against the headboard. “Any more questions?”

Jay grabbed a random chess piece off of the blanket, twiddling it between his fingers. He took a deep breath, ignoring the nervousness growing in his chest again. One more question.

“What was Cliff Gordon like?”

Alex cocked an eyebrow, dropping his eyes. “I told you, like four days ago. At lunch.”

“No.” Jay said a little more harshly than he’d meant to. “I mean  _ really _ . No more generic nice answers to get me to stop asking.”

Alex sucked in a breath. He leaned forward and looked down, refusing to meet Jay’s eyes. He didn’t talk for a long while, which just made Jay even more nervous.

“You won’t like it.” he sighed, clasping his hands together.

“I don’t care. I want the truth.”

Alex sighed through his nose. He glanced up at Jay, his face set in grim determination, and held up a pinkie finger. Jay entwined it with his own, and they shared a tired chuckle before putting their hands down.

“Cliff Gordon…” the blonde started, and Jay’s heart hammered in his chest. 

“Mister Gordon was a distant, cold son of a bitch who only cared about his reputation. He picked me out of a talent show lineup after my uncle died. He  _ paid _ the foster family I was with to hand me over.” 

Alex met Jay’s eyes, and suddenly the Master of Lightning remembered the word for that gray-blue color- steely. Steely and cold and furious. He refused to drop his eyes.

“Eight year old me was worth exactly fifteen thousand, five hundred dollars. I know because they discussed my price in _ front of me _ . I’ve seen Mr. Gordon drop more cash on a watch, if that helps you understand.”

Jay’s mouth went dry. In the back of his mind, he dimly remembered his mom giving him a kiss and calling him priceless. Her precious Jay-bird, the light of her life.

He’d grown up with ‘ _ priceless’ _ . 

Alex had a dollar amount.

It was already unthinkable, but Alex kept going.

“He sent me to the Oppenheimer. He didn’t even have me for a week before sending me off to be  _ improved _ .” he spat out the word like it was poison. “I never got birthday presents from him- his secretary sent them, always at least a week late. Most of the time, he ignored me- except when my performance met his expectations. Then, he’d parade me around for a day before sending me off again. I was never family- I don’t even have access to the family vault. All I got was the money and the stupid mansion he loved so much. So, yeah. That was the kind of man he was. Sorry.”

There was more. Alex seethed with barely contained fury, dropping his eyes again. He clenched and unclenched his fists, like he wanted to punch something. Jay knew there was more to tell, but something told him if he kept pushing then Alex would break something. It’s certainly what he felt like doing.

No wonder he was left in a scrapyard- Mr. Gordon only kept Alex because he was talented. Useful. A baby couldn’t be useful.

“No wonder you left.” he whispered, and Alex nodded without meeting his eye. “The mansion, the money, your job- it reminded you of him.”

“I love my job,” Alex corrected, “and that money goes to a lot of good causes. But yeah, I don’t spend a lot of time at home. I only use that damn house to store my clothes.” 

He blinked slowly, and to Jay’s surprise, he chuckled.

“I used to take his mahogany furniture outside and use it for axe-throwing practice.”

Despite himself, Jay snorted. “Axe-throwing? I didn’t pick you as an angry type.”

“I try not to be,” Alex leaned against the headboard again, picking at the hem of his pants, “but sometimes you get sick of being the world’s punching bag, y’know?” 

Jay made a mental note to get Alex some new clothes- the yellow robes he’d arrived in were beyond repair, and he’d been stuck in that boring white ensemble for days. Maybe he could borrow some of his clothes. They looked about the same size.

“If you really want to punch something, challenge Kai to a fight,” he suggested, gathering the pieces. Alex blinked a little slower, and Jay was half worried that he was going to fall asleep right there. That kind of anger all at once always tired him out. “He won’t turn you down, and I kinda want to see your axe skills.”

Alex gave a tired sort of laugh, but Jay could tell that the blonde was done with the conversation. His gaze drifted over to the corner, like a switch inside his head had just flipped off. There was really nothing else Jay could do but gather up the chess pieces and leave. He paused in the doorway, though, and looked over his shoulder back at the blonde in the bed.

“If it makes you feel better,” he said a little louder than normal, “I’m glad I met you instead of him.” 

Because if Mr. Gordon was still alive, he’d have nothing for him but a punch in the face and about a million volts of electricity through that vault of his. He wished he could do something to make Alex feel better- having a dollar amount over your head can’t be good for anybody’s self-esteem.

For a second, Alex’s eyes cleared again, staring right at him. “You’re not lying,” he said softly, like he couldn’t believe it. A little smile appeared on his face, and something told Jay it was genuine. 

Jay smiled back, and he closed the door. He’d gotten his answers…

Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to keep the chapters at a steady pace, maybe like once a week, but I can't make any promises. Also, this is a really long chapter, I know, but I just love this interaction- and it's going to be very important later on in the story.
> 
> Also also, I know this is set in the same timeline as WDTWG, but there's not going to be very much Dawn until at least chapter 13.
> 
> Bear with me, you'll get your content.


	10. What's in a Name (And Can We Forget Mine?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex finds himself in a tight spot. During the night, terrors haunt him. During the day, he has to be around Cole. 
> 
> But maybe one problem can solve another- if he can swallow his pride long enough to admit it.

FIND ME!

Alex surged up from the bed, forcing himself to breathe. One hand went to his forehead and came back soaked.

“God,” he groaned into the darkness, “just when I thought it couldn’t get worse.”

He fumbled for the alarm clock on the nightstand, reaching out twice before he finally connected on the third try. He pressed the button on top, and the time appeared in blood red lettering. A little past midnight.

A little past midnight, which meant that he’d only been asleep for a few hours. That really wasn’t good. Usually he got four, maybe six hours of sleep before the boy in the mirror started screaming. It really was getting worse, but that didn’t make sense.

He pressed the button on the clock again, squinting past the sleep in his eyes. There. In very tiny lettering, glowing like hellfire, was the date. 12 November.

He counted on his fingers, just to be sure. He left on the first. The second and third he spent on the train, fourth through sixth in the desert alone, seventh and eighth dragging Pixal. Then it was the three days in that damned hospital wing, then yesterday, and now it was past midnight.

Still, it didn’t seem possible. How could it only be the twelfth of November? The dreams usually got worse later in the month, not earlier. He shivered, his sweat turning cold in the night air, but still he forced himself out of bed.

Couldn’t go to sleep again. He wasn’t sure if it was physically possible, but even if it was he refused to face the boy in the mirror again. As if he had a choice- he’d be back tomorrow night. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow until the end of the month, and even then it would start up again next November. Stealing his sleep bit by bit. Forever.

It took a moment to register that he was thirsty, but when he took the time to think about it, his throat had gone totally dry.

He checked his backpack- maybe he still had some water from the desert. He unscrewed the top, looked inside, even upended the bottle just to be sure. As if his luck was going to start now.

“At least now,” he said to himself, “I have an excuse to leave.”

He didn’t bother zipping his backpack again before heading out into the hallway. He glanced at the doors as he passed them. They weren’t labeled, but even he could tell who’s room was whose. Stickers and posters and splashes of paint that almost looked like a paint balloon had been thrown at each of the doors let the entire world know who slept in each room.

Gray and white and red and green and purple- even Pixal’s door had a few Samurai X stickers on it, in perfectly straight lines. Leave it to a robot to do something like that with stickers. He almost managed a chuckle before his gaze swung left and his heart stopped in his chest.

Black paint in jagged edges, cleaned up with a brush and some shading. Even in the darkness, he recognized those mountains. All it needed was a little figure at the top, screaming for freedom. He’d seen him do it plenty of times, back when they were young. Little Cole dragging littler Alex up and up and up until they could breathe again, just the two of them.

He forced himself to move on, a phrase he’d gotten very comfortable with.

Giant snake destroying the school? Move on.

Your friend gets cut in half by a stone samurai? Move on.

The guy who sat next to you in history gets slaughtered by a sentient bus? Move on.

Ghosts? Snakes? Imprisoned by gang members? Turned to stone by evil fog?

Move on, move on, move on. It didn’t help anyone dwelling on the past, and he knew it. Even as he looked back at Cole’s door, he knew it.

God, he was such a hypocrite.

He made it to the kitchen without really realizing it- every hallway in the Monestary looked the same. He was halfway afraid he’d gone in a huge circle, but the room he finally entered had a stove and a sink in it, and that was good enough. Alex blinked the sleep out of his eyes- it wasn’t like he was going to sleep again any time soon- and went to stand by the sink.  
He filled his water bottle, and went to take a drink. Three gulps later, Alex found himself staring at the bottom of the bottle again- maybe he was more thirsty than he’d thought.

“Too much water hast thou, poor Alex,” he muttered sarcastically to himself, “And therefore I forbid my tears.”  
He refilled the bottle just in case, and started back toward the guest room- or at least he took one step toward the hallway. Then the shivers started.

It wasn’t the cold causing the shivers. In fact, as he turned, the air in the kitchen seemed warmer that it was in the guest room. Something was in the hallways with him, and whatever it was he didn’t trust it. His back hit the edge of the counter, his eyes sweeping across the dark kitchen.

Alex’s hand felt the counter behind him, eventually coming to rest on something he knew very well indeed. The knife was bigger than the ones he was used to, but if it came down to it he had no doubts that the silver blade would do its job. He kept his water bottle on hand, and started down the hallways again.

If something wanted to get at the sleeping ninja, they would certainly have to go through him first.

He twisted the knife handle in his hand, getting a feel for the weight of it. If he had the time, he’d usually practice throwing with it a few times before using it. Oh, well.

Something knocked over in the next hall, and Alex felt his heart skip a beat. He had no idea who this guy was, or what kind of weaponry he had. Better to stay in the shadows for the time being.

The whole situation reminded him of the Overlord virus from a few years ago. He’d only been eighteen at the time, but there’s not much else to do when your movie set turns against you. In the weeks that had followed, he’d discovered just how much his co-stars had relied on technology. Too much, and they learned the hard way.

He’d taken to patrolling the tunnels around their quarters in the sewer, taking out any machine unfortunate enough to head their way. At least the Monastery hallways smelled better.

“Shine, little glow worm,” came a sleepy voice from the other hallway, “glimmer, glimmer,”

Alex wasn’t sure whether to sigh in relief or hide. He took the middle road, sticking his knife in a nearby potted plant and taking a swig from his water bottle.

Cole nearly walked by him, still humming his little lullaby, when he took a double take and backed up so suddenly his back hit the wall.

“Alex?” he stage-whispered, “what are you doing out here this late?”

He drank a little more water, ignoring how close they were in the cramped hallway. When he spoke, his voice went totally flat. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Cole studied his face, concern creeping over the shock from a moment ago.

“Oh no, was it a nightmare again?” he said, and to Alex’s surprise he heard genuine concern in Cole’s voice. “Which one? The cabin? Your uncle?”

He tried to call on that flat voice again. If he could, this just might pass without incident. Then again, the hallway was very small, and the stripe of moonlight filtering in made Cole’s eyes even more piercing than before.

“It’s November,” was all he could say before something choked his voice.

Cole’s eyes- they looked almost ghostly in the light of the moon- went wide. One of his hands reached for Alex, but retreated before it made contact. Alex dropped his eyes, focusing instead on the stripe of moonlight on the floor. He pretended he didn’t feel Cole’s eyes on him.

“Do you want another block of wood?” Cole asked, making Alex look up. “I know carving helps calm you down. Did you finish the one I gave you earlier?”

That got Alex to smile. He’d been working on it constantly, only pausing when he’d cut his thumb and talked to Jay. He nodded at Pebble, and started down the hallway toward the guest room.

“Come on,” he whispered, dodging another potted plant, “you’re gonna want to see this.”

Despite himself, he held his breath as they passed the other bedrooms, but nobody stirred. Alex slid open the guest room door, but didn’t bother to close it before heading to the nightstand.  
To be honest, at first he had wanted to carve a bear- just a generic, easy bear to pass the time- but of course his stupid nostalgia got in the way. He tossed the little wooden creature over his shoulder, whipping around just in time to see Cole fumble before catching it.

He turned the carving around in his hands, holding it in a stripe of moonlight to get a better look. When he started laughing, Alex knew he recognized it.

“It’s Pebbles!” Cole ran a thumb over the little wooden mask, “Oh man, I remember him!”

“The uncomfortably smart, honey-addicted raccoon,” Alex continued, lending a thought to the memory.

The little creature- not the wooden one, but the actual raccoon- had managed to befriend a beehive in a tree next to their old dorm room. Pebbles the raccoon would climb up and harvest his fill of honey, and in repayment would keep away the squirrels and other bee-killing creatures. It had been the strangest friendship either of the boys had ever seen, so naturally they adopted the monikers of the two parties.

“I was thinking of carving some bees next,” he said, nodding at the carving in Cole’s hands, “to complete the set.”

They shared a chuckle in the darkness, and with that they had run out of things to say to each other. Well, except…

“I’m sorry,” Alex said quietly, suddenly feeling much smaller. He crossed his arms over his chest, but that did nothing to alleviate the squeezing feeling around his heart.

“Sorry about what?” Cole replied, confusion clouding his eyes. “I was already up, and the carving looks great. What’s there to be sorry about?”

No matter how many conversations Alex had with these people, he couldn’t help being a little confused. He, admittedly, had gotten a little too used to being lied to. Directors would call his worst take of the day ‘amazing’. Girls would scream how they loved him, as if they even knew him. Once, he’d been called his character’s name so much during a shoot that for a little while he stopped responding to ‘Alex’.

The truth always sounds a little weird to a liar.

“I’m sorry about the way I’ve been acting,” he started, refusing to look at the other man. “At lunch the other day, and again before the blood test- I’ve been a major jerk.”  
A little flicker of rage sparked inside his chest, but he held his breath until it suffocated. He couldn’t afford getting angry at himself, at least not on the outside. He could scream at himself any other time.

“I guess I just-” he sighed through his nose, trying to find the words. “I don’t know how to act around you anymore.”

They weren’t kids anymore- it wasn’t like he could pretend they were. He’d messed up- he’d messed up so bad and the worst part was he didn’t even know what to do about it. Part of him wanted to apologize- try and make it better.

Another part of him- maybe logic, maybe fear- wanted to disappear. Slip back into the shadows until everyone has forgotten his name. It wasn’t like it would take that long- fame was fleeting (even he knew that) and there weren’t many people he knew that were still alive. Uncle Jim died. So did Oscar, and Dinah, and Milo, and Fen, and-

“Hey,”

Something grabbed his arms. He looked, and there he was again. Cole, smiling back at him with a kindness in his eyes that Alex knew he didn’t deserve.

“You don’t have to act like anything around me.” Cole said softly, guiding him over to the bed. “We’re friends, remember? You’re the buzzy bees with the honey, and I’m the raccoon too stupid to stop trying to be your friend.” He sat down on the side of the bed, and Alex couldn’t help but chuckle as he sat down next to him.

“Friends.” he said, and the word felt weird in his mouth. “Yeah, okay. I can work with friends.”

A sound like folding paper came from his left, but Alex didn’t realize what it was until Cole started talking.

“What are you in the mood for? Hamlet?”

“What?” he looked over, and found Cole holding his Best of Shakespeare book up to the moonlight, flipping through its pages. “You don’t have to do that- you need to sleep.”

“Nonsense,” said Cole in a loud whisper, “You’re my friend, and friends help friends avoid their terrifying clairvoyant nightmares about their vague destiny slash traumatic past.” His eyes sparkled in the moonlight, “So, what’ll it be, Bee?”

All of a sudden, Alex found himself yawning. Maybe the adrenaline rush from earlier was wearing off. He glanced at his bandaged thumb, and an idea came to his mind. It tumbled out of his mouth in a messy quotation, but it was enough.

“‘Tis not so deep as a well,” he muttered, blinking slowly, “nor so wide as a church door.”

Cole nodded and flipped to the right page.

“Two households,” he started, his voice low and soothing, “both alike in dignity- in fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”

Alex yawned, his head dropping with a sudden wave of sleepiness. He leaned on Cole for support, listening vaguely to the sounds that surrounded him.  
Under the words, as nice as they were, Alex could hear something much more soothing. The steady ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump of the strongest heart in the world- even though he’d never admit it out loud.

Of course, there were things that still needed addressing. There were so many things he needed to apologize for, talk about, work through. But he was so tired, and a friend sounded really good to him.

In a little while, he’d ask Cole to leave and get some sleep- but now, Alex simply closed his eyes and listened to his two favorite sounds in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love feedback- kudos, comments, anything! This will be a moderately long fic- I'm planning at least 30 chapters. Enjoy!


	11. Freckles and Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole's POV

Cole woke up cold, in a room he didn’t quite recognize.

“This isn’t my room,” he grumbled, sitting up. A quick look around showed him just how right he was. There were no posters, no sketchbooks, nothing at all on the walls. It looked so empty, just plain white walls and generic furniture- it reminded him a little of a hotel room.

A sliding noise caught his attention, and he turned just in time to watch a red book slide off the side of the bed. He leaned over, grabbing it off the floor with one hand.  _ The Best of Shakespeare _ ? Okay, that sort of made sense. The last thing he remembered was reading Juliet’s monologue from the balcony by moonlight, Bee’s head on his shoulder-

Oh god.  _ Bee _ . Cole’s head whipped around, but the room was empty except for him and the book. And, he realized, the blue backpack on the nightstand. He let out a breath in relief- for half a second, he was scared that Bee had left again.

_ You, _ that little voice in his head said,  _ have no room to talk. _

After all, Cole was the one who left. Off to become a ninja. Off to train with other people. Off again and again, dropping off the face of the earth with only a letter to excuse it.

_ Those are good reasons,  _ he argued in his head,  _ I save the world, and he lives in it. _

Still, that nasty little voice kept nagging at him as he stared at the ceiling.

_ And just how well has that turned out for the both of you? He still has nightmares, you’re still lonely, and one day you’ll both be gone. How much will those letters be worth to a dead man? _

“No time to argue,” he said aloud, shaking the thoughts out of his head. First things first; he had to find Alex. A creaking sound brought his attention over to the door, and his heart stopped in his chest. Alex stepped through the door, a cup in each hand and a towel over his hair. 

Alex looked up from the coffee mugs he was holding, noticing Cole sitting there.

“Oh, you’re awake!” he said, his face splitting into a smile that showed off his perfectly white teeth. He handed Cole the black mug, keeping the yellow one for himself as he sat down on the side of the bed. Cole silently thanked whatever in the world had blessed him with dark skin, or else he’d be blushing. 

The room suddenly smelled great, a mix of coffee and the jasmine tea in Alex’s cup. No matter how old they got, Bee had never grown to like coffee. Just one of the million things that made him stand out from a crowd.

“Thanks, but uh, how long have you been up?” Cole asked, gesturing at the others’ hair towel with his coffee. He took a sip, finding it exactly how he liked it- not too strong, not too sweet, with just a little cinnamon in it. “And, how did you know my coffee order?”

Alex smiled. Despite himself, Cole couldn’t help but notice the way Alex’s freckles moved with his face- smiling, laughing, taking a sip of tea- like a starry sky shifting with the seasons.

“You’re a really heavy sleeper, Pebble,” Alex explained, reaching up and untwisting the towel on his head. A curtain of damp, honey-blonde waves settled next to his chin, and he adjusted the towel to drape over his shoulders like a cape. “I’ve been up for maybe an hour.”

An hour? Wow, he must’ve really been out, then. As he remembered, that kind of thing always happened when they shared a bed. Alex easily fell asleep to Shakespeare, and the body heat from Bee always knocked Cole out. It was kind of hard not to- the blonde radiated warmth like a human campfire, always has.

“That still doesn’t explain how you put the perfect amount of cinnamon in my coffee.”

Alex smiled again, his freckles shifting. “Cole, we lived together for nearly a decade, and for the better part of it you started every morning with the same damn cup of coffee.” He looked directly into Cole’s face, shaking his head lightly. “It isn’t the kind of thing I’d forget.”

Cole took a drink of coffee and Alex followed suit, both of them soaking up the quiet morning. Outside, a bird flew by, calling loudly. The blonde chuckled as it flew by the window, mimicking its cry with surprising accuracy.

“I wonder what kind of bird that is,” Alex muttered, calling out to the bird again and shifting to partially face the window. It was the most at ease he’d looked in days- no picking, no fake recovery, no avoiding. Just Bee, sipping on his tea in the morning light.

“Remember that call,” Cole suggested, “and maybe Zane can identify it for you.”

Alex opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He just closed his mouth and nodded, going in for another sip. 

For what had to be the millionth time, Cole remembered just how many freckles Alex had. He watched the blonde clutch his steaming mug closer, revealing even more dots on his hands and arms. He used to try to count them, during boring lectures or endless rehearsals. Little Bee would hold out a hand, and little Cole would turn it over, trying to remember all the spots he’d counted before.

On Bee’s left hand, Cole remembered, there were exactly thirty-two freckles. At least, there had been that many last time- there were probably more now. How was he supposed to count them all, if one little hand had that many? He hadn’t known back then, and he didn’t know now, but he still found himself counting.

“Cole? Co-ole,” Alex said in a singsong voice, waving a hand. 

“Oh!” he managed to snap out of his thoughts, and almost slapped himself. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Alex took a breath, squaring his shoulders, and Cole ignored the little flicker of nervousness in his chest. 

“Thank you,” he said simply, in a rush of breath that made him look like he was deflating. “For what you did. I haven’t slept that well since- in years. I even got up without an alarm, early enough to beat everyone to the shower. I just-” he paused, clearing his throat. “-thank you.”

“That’s what friends do, right?” Cole smiled and nodded, trying to keep his voice from sounding tight. Friends. Yes. Only friends, with no other reason to be anything else. Obviously.

But still, the smile Bee gave him could only have been made by a higher power. Perfect teeth, without even a hint of a stain on them, which shouldn’t have made sense, but hey- it was Bee. 

Before Cole could fall even farther down that particular rabbit hole, somebody started screaming down the hall. Alex flinched, but Cole didn’t- he’d gotten used to people yelling at the top of their lungs. This time, it seemed to be Jay, screaming one word and running in the direction of the kitchen.

“Huh. Zane must be making pancakes for breakfast.” he drained his coffee and scooted off the bed, taking a moment to look back at the still very shocked Alex. “What, you’ve never lived in a monastery with six feral twentysomethings before?” he chuckled, offering his elbow.

Bee took one last gulp from his mug, and stuck out his tongue. “I’ve never had to fistfight an Elemental Master just to shower before, either.”

“Yes you have! Remember Tech Week back in eighth grade? You nearly broke my nose!”

“You don’t count, my dear Pebble,” he replied, casually taking Cole’s elbow, “I’d fistfight you any day.”

God, he was close. If only he had a button to stop time, maybe he’d finally be able to count every tiny freckle on that wonderful face. Cole even knew how he’d start- going left to right, starting at his forehead, reading the dots like Shakespeare. Maybe spend an eternity or two trying to wax poetic about the color of his eyes. You know, friend stuff.

Time had other plans, however, and Alex pulled him out into the hallway. They let go of each other before they hit the main living quarters- a pattern they’d followed since they were kids. Separate targets meant easier getaways, after all, no matter how much Cole wanted to keep their arms entwined.

Pixal noticed them first, piping a happy “Alexander!” as they came through the doorway. The others all gave equally happy greetings, except Kai- who, Cole realized with a start- had the beginnings of a bruise forming on his cheek. Fistfight for the shower, huh?

“Rematch, St. Gail,” hissed the Master of Fire, rubbing his jaw. “Any time, any place.”

“Perhaps next Friday,” Alex replied politely, taking his seat, “or would you rather fight a weakened opponent?”

The table went utterly silent as Cole tried his best not to laugh. Kai’s face turned red, but the funniest part was the politely innocent look on Alex’s face. Everyone at the table knew  _ exactly  _ what had happened, and Cole refused to look at the others- making eye contact could be just the thing to break him into laughter, and then they’d have a pissed-off Kai on their hands.

Maybe then Alex could punch him again, and this time they could get it on video.

The tension was broken by a happy Zane bustling into the room, holding two giant stacks of pancakes.

“My apologies,” he started, placing the pancakes on the table, “I did not know what our guest likes for breakfast, so I made a little of everything to celebrate his recovery.”

“A  _ little _ ?” Jay whispered, but it was too late. Zane zipped out of the room again, coming back with a large bowl of scrambled eggs. 

And then oatmeal. 

And then fruit salad. 

Waffles. Muffins. Five different gallon-size jugs of juice.

“Zane, this is a little much,” Lloyd said, his voice muffled by the sheer amount of breakfast between them.

“Nonsense, we have a guest,” Zane gave Alex a shoulder pat, “It was the least I could do.”

Cole glanced over at Alex, and this time he did laugh. He recognized that expression- the ‘I’ve never seen so much food in my  _ life _ ’ stare. He’d seen it first on Alex’s face at their first Oppenheimer meal together. The tiny would-be-Bee had apparently had to hunt, gather, and farm all of his meals- he’d never heard of ‘multiple courses’ before.

A tug on his sleeve pulled Cole back to the present, and back to the grown-up Bee. 

“I’ve never seen so much food in my  _ life _ ,” he whispered fearfully as Zane walked away.

Cole laughed harder, and reached for a stack of pancakes.

“So, Alex,” Lloyd piped up from across the table, “I’ve gotta ask. What’s been your favorite movie that you’ve worked on?”

Bee thought for a second, eyeing the different foods like chess pieces. Cole put down his pancakes long enough to spot the fruit salad and hand it over to the overwhelmed blonde.

“That’s a hard one,” he said, giving Cole a grateful smile that made his stomach flutter. 

“It can’t be  _ that  _ hard,”

“It’s like choosing between your children,” Bee insisted, ladling fruit onto his plate. “Could you guys choose a favorite time you’ve saved the world?”

“Well, that would have to be when I defeated the Overlord and saved my dad,” replied Lloyd without a moment’s hesitation.

“Defeating Morro for me,” Nya added between sips on her smoothie.

“Defeating the Oni,” said Jay. Zane nodded in agreement, heading back toward the kitchen again.

“The Tournament of Elements,” Kai sighed, a lovestruck look on his face.

“The Hands of Time,” said Pixal, steering Zane back toward his seat at the table.

Alex looked like he’d been flicked between the eyes. “Oh, wow. Um, I guess the  _ Mark of the Beast _ movies. I like acting creepy.” 

Cole went back to his pancakes, too hungry to properly listen to the conversation. Between bites, he sneaked one or two glances in Bee’s direction. 

He was deep in a table-wide conversation about horror movies. The others all voiced their opinions, and Bee gave insights on what it was like during filming. 

Cole tried to remember if he’d seen  _ Mark of the Beast _ . Was that the movie where teenagers got slaughtered at a summer camp, or the one where the serial killer goes to space? There were so many of the damn things, and it was still really early. Maybe they could rent it later.

_ No thinking,  _ a little voice told him.  _ Pretty boy and pancakes only _ .

It was hard to argue with that kind of logic. 


	12. The Perks Of Being A Morning Person

Alexander woke up warm, to the first hints of sunlight streaming through the window. He half-wished he could go back to sleep- the bedcovers were warm and soft, and Cole’s presence didn’t hurt either. They must have fallen asleep to Shakespeare again, judging by the book unceremoniously draped over Pebble’s face. 

As he remembered, they’d just started  _ Othello _ the night before. Not Alex’s favorite by any standards- the plot hindered far too much on the characters being stupid- but Iago was always a fun character, especially with the voices Cole always did.

Before he moved, before he did anything, Alexander took a moment to breathe and settle into the day’s reality. The cloth under his hand was Cole’s shirt. The force tucking him in close was Cole’s arm. The sweet rhythm next to his ear was Cole’s heart. 

Cole, his friend, and the one he didn’t deserve in the slightest. 

There goes reality, ruining a perfectly good dream again. Alex sighed through his nose. Never mind, and move on.

The grip around his shoulders didn’t hinder him in the slightest- being skinny did have its perks every once in a while. He just wiggled out of the grasp and onto the floor. 

He regretted it immediately- the already cold floor felt  _ freezing _ after having been wrapped up so tightly in warmth. He clenched his teeth and stood up anyway, sparing a thought to wonder if the ninja had any spare slippers he could borrow.

Carefully, carefully, Alex slipped the open book off of Cole’s face, placing it on the nightstand with Pebbles the raccoon. All the while, the Master of Earth didn’t stir. He’d always been a heavy sleeper, and with the added warmth from the blankets, Alex calculated that he had about an hour and a half before his Pebble woke up- just enough time to take a shower and grab him some coffee.

First, meds. Can’t forget the meds. He rooted around in his bag until he found the bottle and took a pill dry, stuffing the bottle back into the bag. Hopefully, they’d work today, and if not he was sure there was something resembling wood-chopping he could do to calm down. Maybe he could volunteer to do the dishes. He missed doing dishes. 

He headed out into the hall, popping all the necessary joints- back, neck, wrists, fingers- and it wasn’t long before he found himself right where he needed to be. He’d gotten a lot of practice navigating the halls in the past week, and now he had almost the complete compound memorized.

The shower was already running when he reached the bathroom. Probably Kai. They’d apparently become rivals after fighting for the shower a few days earlier, a fact that still made Alex chuckle when he thought about it.

He’d been mugged enough to know that he didn’t look like much of a threat, so the thought that an Elemental Master wanted to fight him sounded like a gimmick from a cartoon. Still, Kai didn’t know about his axe skills. He’d just have to wait one more week.

He took a seat on a nearby bench and waited for his ‘rival’ to finish up, soaking in the morning. The monastery’s overhead lights stayed off, using the sunlight to save power. It almost felt like he was in a dream again, warm light streaming into the chilly hallways. Maybe he should reach in and flush the toilet- it wouldn’t be very polite, but it’d be funny.

“Morning, Alex,”

He turned, finding Nya walking sleepily in from the direction of the bedrooms. She yawned and collapsed on the bench next to him.

“Good morning, Nya!”

She yawned again and stuck out her tongue at him. “Ugh, you are  _ such _ a morning person. Who’s even in there?” she gestured vaguely at the bathroom.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Kai.”

“Just like my brother to start a rivalry over showering.” Nya rubbed her eyes, giving a third yawn. “I just hope you boys leave me some hot water.”

As if on cue, the shower noises shut off. Alex wasn’t worried about the water- he’d been showering cold since he was little. Hot water was only used for tea and emergencies back in Uncle Jim’s cabin, and nothing had changed when he got to the Oppenheimer. 

Kai walked out in a tee-shirt and shorts, his hair still dripping wet and a cloud of steam behind him. “Your turn, St. Gail,” he said teasingly, “I might’ve left some hot water, but I’m not sure.”

“Oh, take your time,” Alex replied, folding his hands and batting his eyelashes in his best ‘sweet innocent youth’ impression, “I hear hot water is good for bruises.”

Kai’s hand flew up to his face, lightly touching the bloom of blue and yellow that was only beginning to heal. He scowled and stormed off, and for a second Alex regretted it- these were Cole’s friends, and he really didn’t want to mess anything up. Then again, who fights an injured dude with no powers over the shower?

“I still can’t believe you landed a hit on him,” Nya snorted, trying to muffle her laughter with her pajama sleeve. He spared her a smile before ducking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

_ I really need some other clothes _ , he thought as he slipped out of his shirt. Maybe he could have somebody send him some clothes from the mansion because he was getting  _ really tired _ of plain white. Then again, branching out could be tricky- the others seemed very protective of their color coordination. 

Red, blue, black, white, green, gray- all silently declared off-limits by the ninja. Even outside of the core group, there were other colors claimed by heroes- purple and teal and orange. He wondered if someone had called dibs on yellow yet. He liked yellow.

The water, of course, was freezing- just like he liked it. It always reminded him of the waterfall by Uncle Jim’s cabin, even when he would rather not remember. But today, the memories were happy ones, and he hummed as he worked shampoo into his hair.

“Good acoustics,” he remarked to himself, finding even the small comment bouncing around the bathroom walls. 

He shouldn’t. He  _ really  _ shouldn’t. He’d managed to live here for a week without giving in to the urge. But some tiny voice told him  _ yes _ .

He started with a scale, just a simple  _ do re mi  _ to warm himself up. He’d done it a million times, but something about this time- the sunlight and the cold water on his face, and a few nights without nightmares- it was like a drug, drawing the notes out of him so the whole bathroom echoed with his voice. It wasn’t long before the song popped into his head, some invisible force feeding him the lyrics.

_ “I don’t patronize, I realize, I’m losing and this is my real life-” _

He’d always had a soft spot for pop-rock, no matter how badly his teachers hated it.

_ “I’m half asleep, and I am wide awake, but this habit is always so hard to break-” _

He dimly remembered the last time he’d sung something like this in front of people- was it ninth or tenth grade? Sometime before Cole left.

_ “I don’t wanna be the bad guy, I’ve been blaming myself and I think you know why-” _

Instead of the classical piece he’d been assigned, he had decided to sing some punk-pop-alternative song that ~spoke~ to his tortured teen soul. His one act of rebellion.

_ “I’m killing time, and time’s killing you every way that I do, did you say-” _

Of course, he’d landed in detention for a week, but he still remembered the look on Cole’s face when the bass had kicked in. In a word,  _ priceless _ . 

_ “Please just follow me, I thought you wanted me ‘cause I want you all to myself-” _

The joke had been on the teachers, though. That ‘garbage’ was what had gotten the talent scout to scoop him up for his first-ever big role.

_ “I can try and suck it up, I just can’t suck it up-” _

He shook those thoughts away- thinking about that part was a slippery slope, and the morning was too good for that. Instead, he turned off the water and raised his voice.

_ “Make me feel like someone else!” _

The bathroom bounced his voice back at him, the echoes fading as he dried off and got dressed. He wrapped his hair in a towel, careful not to leave any water on the floor- friend or no friend, he was still a guest after all. Alexander smiled, fixing his hair towel and opening the door.

“Pixal,  _ please _ tell me you got a recording of that,” Lloyd said, clasping his hands together.

Alex couldn’t ignore the feeling of his face heating up- he’d totally forgotten about the other people. A quick glance around the room, and he forced himself to breathe again- at least Cole wasn’t there.

“We should totally have a karaoke night!” Jay piped up, grabbing Nya’s hand and leading her in a twirl. “It’ll be fun!” 

“You guys can just ask me to sing something,” Alex said quickly, scooting by a very smug-looking Pixal. “It’s kind of what I’m built for. Anyway, shower’s open.”

As he walked down the hall, the conversation behind him dissolved into a three-way fight for the bathroom, with Pix standing by and laughing at the humans. He laughed too, making his way to the kitchen. 

The kitchen was empty, so Alex started a pot of coffee. He never drank the stuff himself unless he had to. He didn’t know why coffee never grew on him, but maybe it was a family thing- Uncle Jim never drank coffee either. He put the teapot on to boil, and the shivers started again.

Something had its eyes on him. He ran through a list of names (Nya, Lloyd, Jay, and Pix are near the bathroom. Cole is asleep. The Sons of Garmadon are in prison), but he didn’t get to the end before a noise caught the edge of his attention. He’d heard it before- the sound of a mech switching visual modes. The knives sat just across the counter, if he could-

“Alexander?”

He forced his shoulders to relax, painting on a small smile before speaking. Breathe, Alexander. 

“Hi Zane, didn’t hear you come in.” he lied, picking a teabag out of a cabinet. “What’s up?”

When the droid didn’t answer, Alex turned and looked, finding something like embarrassment on his silver face. Embarrassment? Alex gave himself a once-over just to check, but nothing was wrong- everything was as it should be.

“Is something wrong?”

Zane’s eyes scanned the room as if the right words would just pop into the air. After a beat, he finally spoke.

“I am sorry, but I have to ask.”

Instantly, Alex’s heart rate spiked. Good God, what did he know? The Oppenheimer? The scar on his leg?  _ Cole? _ If he had to explain the nicknames, he’d burst into flame.

“What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Pixal?”

The relief that flooded his veins could have made him cry, but instead he found himself laughing- gripping the kitchen counter for support. He didn’t pass that well, did he? Maybe he should cuff his pants? Get an eyebrow slit? What if he just painted a giant rainbow on his forehead?

“Zane, I hate to tell you this, but you  _ completely  _ misread me.” He leaned back on the counter, keeping half an eye on the teapot. “Pix is my friend, and I’m not interested in that kind of a relationship.”

“That kind?” Zane parroted, taking a place at the opposite counter. He reached up, aiming for the spice cabinet. That only half made sense (why would a robot need spices?) but maybe he was preparing breakfast for the others.

“You know,” Alex grabbed the coffee pot and a black mug, “Girls.”

A quick glance at the nindroid showed only confusion on his silver face, so Alex tried again.

“I’m gay, Zane,” he said flatly.

He’d expected his ‘coming out’ to have a little more fanfare- rainbow glitter, a cake, maybe an old person screaming in agony in the background- but making Friday morning breakfast with a robot on a mountaintop seemed just crazy enough for the occasion.

“Oh.” Zane looked like he’d just been flicked between the eyes, nearly dropping the cinnamon onto the counter before catching it again. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

Alex just shrugged and poured some coffee. He borrowed the cinnamon to add a couple of shakes to the coffee, then reached for the sugar.

“Who else knows?” Zane asked politely.

That made Alex think back. He put down the coffee and put a hand to his cheek, adding sugar to his tea. “My Uncle Jim must’ve known, even though I didn’t know it myself at the time.”

“Parents are like that.” Zane nodded, grabbing butter and a bowlful of risen dough from the fridge.

“Cole’s known for a while, and I told Pixal in the desert. Then, I guess it’s just Julie and Hawk and you.”

“Julie and Hawk?”

“Old friends from the Oppenheimer. Best damn tap act in the world, and you can quote me on that.” 

Of course, they knew- they were the ones he’d called before leaving. Hawk had even offered to let him borrow their car for the week before Alex had decided on the train. They were also the ones who’d gifted him his first pride flag, though he didn’t mention that.

“I’ll look them up later,” Zane promised, smiling. “Just one more question; how do you feel about cinnamon rolls?”

“Like I might have to break my diet.” he laughed back, grabbing the mugs and turning away from the counter. He only got a few steps away before something snagged at the back of his mind. “Hey, Zane?”

The nindroid hummed in acknowledgment, engrossed in spreading cinnamon and butter over a huge square of pastry dough.

“What made you ask?”

“Hmm? Oh, I heard you singing,” Zane said, digging in a utensil drawer, “I figured you were singing about someone special. I apologize for my assumptions.”

Alex nodded and ducked out of the kitchen, making his way back to the guest room. Just as he’d thought, Pebble was still snuggled up under the blankets, fast asleep.

Alex pretended his hands weren’t shaking as he set down the mugs on the nightstand. Pebble muttered something in his sleep and a little piece of hair fell in his face- and it took all of Alex’s willpower to keep himself from brushing the hair aside. He couldn’t help but smile.

_ Please just follow me, _ said the song in his head.  _ I want you all to myself. _

“Something tells me I’m going to regret my song choice,” he said to himself, taking a sip of tea and sliding down the wall. There really wasn’t much to do but wait for Cole to wake up.

The reality of the situation, no matter how much he liked to ignore it, was that he had too much to apologize for and not enough time to do it. He’d run out of chances years ago. At least they were friends- that was more than he deserved, and he knew it. 

_ Still,  _ he thought, watching Pebble sigh in his sleep,  _ there are some perks to getting up early. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all are wondering, the song is All To Myself by Marianas Trench.
> 
> Timeline update: By now, Alex has been at the Monestary for a week- it's been two weeks since he left Ninjago City, and the current in-fic date is November 14th.


	13. Dawn's Day Part 1: We've Met Before (But I Don't Know You Yet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of an old friend brings nothing but questions. Zane's POV

Even a highly capable nindroid needs backup, sometimes. 

` Zane would need several more hands to count all of the times his brothers and friends had helped him. Pixal would need at least two hands to herself on that count, and both of them knew it. It was one of the many reasons he loved her so much.

Pixal snagged another armful of dirty dishes from the counter and carted them away. He shot her a smile, but just as quickly returned to his chopping. They only had a few hours to prepare, and it needed to be perfect. 

The clatter of dishes and a bright ‘Thanks, Pix’ reminded Zane of the third person in the kitchen. Alexander had shown himself to be useful a few hours ago- the only human willing to spend his time cleaning up as the nindroids bustled about. The others had busied themselves with other activities to avoid the kitchen- or in Cole’s case, having been banned from the kitchen. Zane had no idea what the ‘toast incident’ was, but knowing Cole it had to be quite the story.

“I’ve missed this,” Alex sighed, scrubbing burnt-on sauce off the bottom of a pan. 

“You cannot be serious- that does not look pleasant in the least,” Pixal nodded at the sink full of dishes. Curiously, Alexander’s enthusiasm seemed genuine, despite his undesirable job.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve actually done dishes? Between charity events and shooting schedules, I’ve been slamming chicken broth and broccoli every meal for the past six years- I have like one bowl and a kettle in my kitchen.” He laughed, adding more soap to his brush. 

Zane blinked, quietly deciding not to comment. Once again, he’d managed to befriend someone who never ate enough. After all, that’s why he was cooking so much. After the homemade dough was done rising, he’d bake it into garlic bread. The sauce was already bubbling away on the stove, but it needed more garlic. Pasta to boil, salad to prepare, and he still had to think of what to serve for dessert- he reminded himself to remember to ask the others to check if they had any ice cream. If not, maybe he still had time to bake a cake.

“Do you guys have a radio?” the blonde asked, elbow-deep in soapy water. “Chores are always more fun with music.”

“We do have an intercom system,” Pixal replied, and Zane caught a glimpse of a very familiar glint in her electric-green eyes. _I’m going to make trouble,_ those eyes said, and he didn’t even try to stop it. A moment later, the ceiling exploded with music.

Zane almost had to turn down his audio receptors- the song wasted no time bursting into bass and drums and clashing cymbals, and for a second Alexander flinched, too- but soon he was smiling again. Smiling and bobbing his head and, when the lyrics started, absolutely singing his heart out.

“ _Am I more than you bargained for yet?”_

Zane had heard Alexander sing before. On television, and in movies, and occasionally he’d hear bright words booming from the bathroom in the sleepy hours of the morning. Bright and clear, Alexander’s voice was just as lovely sounding as Zane had come to expect- but he certainly wasn’t prepared for when Pixal joined in.

_“I’ve been dying to tell you anything you wanna here, ‘cause that’s just who I am this week!”_ she sang, smooth and beautiful.

Alex grabbed another pan as Pixal popped the spices back into their cabinet. If Zane had a heart, it would have stopped in his chest. Of course, he did have a heart- and she was dancing right in front of him.

The chorus kicked off, and the singing in the kitchen hit a new burst of energy. Alexander and Pixal screamed along to the song, rebellion and war and heavy drums somehow fitting perfectly into the sunlit kitchen. They bounced around the kitchen, sending bubbles and droplets of soapy water everywhere.

In the background, Zane dimly registered a few faces poking around the doorway. Green and gray and red, all visibly confused.

“Hey, did you start a party without me, St. Gail?” Kai snapped over the music.

Zane glanced between the two, refusing to let himself laugh. Ever since their fight for the shower a few days earlier, Kai and Alexander had been rivals- at least, they were in Kai’s mind. The Master of Fire shot the movie star cutting remarks and sharp glares constantly, but it became all too clear that Alexander wasn’t taking it seriously at all. 

Of course, Alexander seemed to take very few things seriously. He spoke of being robbed as if it was a mild inconvenience, and had faked his own recovery- exclusively, it seemed, to mess with Cole. 

Troubling, to say the least.

_“Is this more than you bargained for yet?_ C’mon, Red- sing!” Alex didn’t bother drying his hands before grabbing Kai’s sleeve and pulling him properly into the kitchen. “Or are you too chicken?”

That certainly got Kai’s attention- challenges always did.

_“Isn’t it messed up, how I’m just dying to be him.”_ Kai reluctantly sang as Alex went back for the other siblings, bouncing to the beat.

Zane couldn’t help but laugh as Pixal grabbed his wrist, pulling him into a twirl as she sang along. 

He didn’t know the song- but he could, easily. In just a moment, he could search the lyrics, find the song, and instantly commit it to his memory- but he didn’t. He liked hearing Pixal sing far too much. He could search it up later, but now he just focused on the melody and the wonderful sight in front of him.

_“Drop a heart!”_ Pixal twirled around, her silver hair sparkling in the light as she pulled him around the kitchen.

_“Break a name!”_ Alexander sang back, pulling Lloyd into the center.

_“We’re always sleeping in, sleeping for the wrong te-e-e-eam!”_ Lloyd sang aloud, prompting a _whoop_ from Alexander. 

The others weren’t nearly as talented- Zane had heard them sing enough to know- but as the second chorus kicked into gear he couldn’t find the will to care. The blondes spun in a circle, more screaming than singing and not caring either way. Zane laughed- how could he not?

He’d been so distracted by the dance party in the kitchen, he wouldn’t have even noticed the sauce bubble over if he didn’t happen to turn that way. He hurried to turn down the heat and add more garlic, sparing a glance at his internal clock. One o’clock.

Three o’clock? Zane double-checked, just to be sure. One o’clock meant that their guests were due any minute.

As if on cue, the music shut off, replaced with a blaring alarm.

“The proximity alarms!” Pixal said, immediately ceasing her dancing.

“ _Proximity alarms?!?_ ” Alexander asked, looking suddenly as if he’d hit a wall.

“I installed them yesterday,” Pixal explained with a shrug, “I thought it would be handy if another incident happened.”

“Another,” Alex scoffed good-naturedly, sticking out his tongue for added effect. “How often do y’all get stranded in the desert?”

Nobody answered him- everyone was too excited for what the proximity alarms meant. It had only been two weeks since they’d last seen each other, but Zane still missed his little shadow. The siblings went first- Red and Gray and Green sprinting out toward the courtyard, shouting unintelligibly as they went. 

Alexander opened his mouth, but the questions he had died as Pixal yanked the blonde into the hallway. 

Zane triple-checked the sauce on the stove before following. He turned up his audio receptors- and there it was. Under the screaming and the mountain wind, the roar of an engine came up from the mountain. He knew it well, of course. He’d helped build it.

He broke into the courtyard, sunlight hitting his face. Everyone else was already there; the Smith siblings pulling open the door, Jay and Lloyd clamoring onto the golden dragon statue for a better look, and Cole and Alexander whispering to each other by the far end of the courtyard. Pixal stepped closer to Zane, and he took her hand.

_Correction: almost everyone_ , he thought as he glanced around the courtyard. Wu was apparently still locked up in his room, ignoring the rest of them. Perhaps that was for the best. After all, the oldest and youngest members of the team had no fondness for each other. Zane still remembered the last time the two had been in a room together, and wanted nothing more than to avoid another of those situations. 

Zane snapped out of his thoughts as the roar of the engine grew louder, along with a few more sounds he hadn’t heard before. 

Screaming.

Two different voices shrieking in harmony. As he listened closer, he could pick out the two distinct pitches. A lower, terrified voice, and a higher, exhilarated one. He didn’t have to guess who was who, largely because the engine noises were getting closer.

All at once, a comet of purple shot through the doors. It skirted around the golden dragon statue- and a cheering Jay and Lloyd- and screeched to a halt exactly two feet from Zane. 

“As always,” he said, unable to hide the smile in his voice, “you have an impeccable flair for drama.”

The smaller form at the front of the motorbike took off her helmet, sending a curtain of pitch black waves down past her shoulders. As the hair tumbled down, he spotted the shock of green at the base of her neck- the oddity she’d always been proud of. 

“It’s easy to stop on a dime,” she explained, climbing down from her seat, “when the wind is on your side. It’s great to see you, Zane.”

He spared a thought to half-miss the days when she’d call everyone ‘Mister’ or ‘Miss’ something, but then she bounded over and hugged him and the thought was swept away by a tidal wave of hugs from a half dozen ninjas. 

Zane dimly registered the larger form stumble off of the bike, holding on to the seat for balance. _Perhaps_ , he thought with a smile, _It was not the wisest decision to give an eleven-year-old a motorbike._

“We missed you too, Dawn,” Lloyd said, his voice muffled by the group hug. The little one laughed, twisting around and attempting to escape. The others laughed too, trying their best to keep her penned in.

A low growling sound caught Zane’s attention, and he looked up to find two men staring daggers at each other.

“Eyepatch,” Alexander addressed the other man, excruciatingly polite even as he clenched his fists by his side.

“Oh-” Ronin stated, clearly off-guard, “Hiya, Blondie. Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Zane sensed Cole tensing to his left. On Ronin’s wrist, he couldn’t help but notice, was a shiny gold watch he’d never seen Ronin wear before.

_I was mugged by a man in an eyepatch,_ Alexander had said when he’d first come to them. Of course, he’d had his suspicions, but he couldn’t stop the shock in his circuits when Alexander spoke next.

The honey blonde barked a laugh, giving a curt bow that meant nothing.

“It’ll take more than dumping me in a desert to get rid of me, I promise.”

Zane heard another growling sound, and with a start, he realized that it wasn’t Alexander’s this time around. Instead, it was Cole- balling his fists and staring furiously at Ronin.

“Why do I feel like I’m gonna be attacked?” the eyepatched man shrunk into himself, his one good eye flicking between the furious Cole and the cold Alexander.

“Watch,” the latter suggested, in a voice that added a silent ‘ _or else’._

All the time, Zane was aware of the Master of Wind, just a step to his right. The little one did nothing, though he knew that she could. At just eight years old, he’d seen her throw entire armies around like playthings with her element. 

Still, she did nothing- she simply watched and waited, her pitch dark eyes never leaving Alexander. When the two men shook hands, the tiniest of smiles appeared on her face.

“Sorry about that,” Alexander said in the group’s direction, affixing his watch to his wrist. “Little misunderstanding with me and Eyepatch here,”

“I have a name,” Ronin growled, thankfully with a little humor in his voice.

“So do I, but Blondie is catchier than Alexander.” The blonde offered Dawn a hand, and the little one took it with only a moment’s hesitation.

“You must be Dawn- I’ve heard about you. I’m-”

“Alexander St. Gail,” Dawn finished for him, taking back her hand.

“Oh, have you seen my movies?” Alexander checked his watch as he spoke, so he missed when Dawn shook her head.

“Not one.” the little one said, “Cole talks about you, though.”

“He does, does he?” Alexander asked, smirking over at the Master of Earth. “Nothing too embarrassing, I hope.”

“Nothing too much at all,” the Master of Wind promised. She stepped a little closer to Alexander, and he in turn bent down in response to a beckoning Zane couldn’t see. She whispered something, and Zane chose not to turn his audio receptors up again. If this was a secret, it apparently was not one for him.

Besides, it was entertaining enough watching Alexander’s face turn red.

“Alright, kid, time for me to go.” Ronin chuckled, sidestepping the frazzled Alexander to be closer to his daughter. He hit a button on his arm, and a roaring engine that could only be Rex started up just outside the walls.

“You know the rules. Stay safe, work hard, and if anybody messes with you-”

“Make them regret it,” Dawn finished for him, with a smile that reminded Zane far too much of the little one’s ghostly uncle. “Love you, Dad!”

“Love you too, kid!” Ronin hugged her tightly before running off, throwing a wave to the rest of them. Rex’s engine got quieter and quieter until the mountain was silent again.

Dawn gave a slow turn-around, and Zane couldn’t help but follow her gaze. 

To Alexander, still red-faced and for once without anything to say.

To Cole, trying his best to blend into the shadows and glancing over to Alexander a little too much.

To Pixal, trying her very best not to laugh.

And finally to Kai, who had failed spectacularly to contain his laughter.

Dawn walked calmly into the Monastery, tossing her helmet perfectly onto the handlebars of her motorbike.

Zane blinked slowly, unsure of what to say.

“So, if anyone was wondering,” Lloyd said, giving a helpless sort of shrug, “Dawn’s still Dawn.”

They looked at each other, each and everyone wearing the same half-confused expression. Alexander checked his watch, and a pleasant surprise washed over his face.

“Not a scratch,” he said, his face gradually shifting back to its natural shade. “Zane?” he added, tapping the face of the watch, “The spaghetti sauce.”

A jolt went through Zane’s circuits, and before the moment was up he sent himself sprinting back to the kitchen, Pixal and Alexander howling right behind him.

At least Alexander was laughing again- though Zane had a grim curiosity burning somewhere in his wiring. He’d never seen the blonde act so...unlike himself. He’d been tired, and scared, and deeply hurt in the week or so he’d been with them, but never so angry. 

Something inside his circuits told him that had Ronin refused to hand over the watch, the situation would have gone south quickly. 

Perhaps even the jovial Alexander was capable of violence.

Perhaps a talk with Cole was in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, the song used in this chapter is "Sugar We're Goin' Down" by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> Secondly, I know the chapter title sounds like a FoB song, and I can't promise shorter titles in the future.
> 
> Thirdly, I did promise you Dawn. I delivered. Now get ready because she's the only one in this damn story with two braincells to rub together, and it's gonna be another five or so chapters before the main plot of the fic starts. 
> 
> Bear with me, I love you all.
> 
> -Minty


	14. Dawn's Day Part 2: Tell Me Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ain't nothin but a heaaartaaache~
> 
> Dawn's a smart little lady, which makes it very frustrating when pieces of the puzzle are missing.

It’s hard being the smartest person in the room, isn’t it?

That’s why Dawn was homeschooled. Never mind the hundreds of hours ninja training required, or patrols, or the fact that her dad was technically hiding from the law again. That hadn’t stopped her from enrolling herself as a third-grader at Ninjago City Elementary #4 two years ago. 

She had been sure that getting a proper education could only make her a better ninja and a better person.

She’d only lasted two weeks before dropping out and starting homeschool. 

Every day in that pastel-puke colored room had been  _ torture _ . It had felt like she was the only person there moving normally- everyone else went in slow motion. 

They had read slowly, done math slowly, colored slowly, and then taken thirty minutes to read  _ a single paragraph in a book. _

What kind of psychopath clapped out syllables? Not her, that’s for sure.

She liked her homeschooling much better. As long as she got her work done, Dad let her read and study whatever she wanted, and at her own pace. For the more advanced subjects, she had Zane and Pixal, always willing to explain what books couldn’t convey. 

She liked her books, and she liked history, and even though math was sometimes hard she liked that, too.

She’d never forgotten what it felt like in regular school, though. That murky, too-slow feeling, like the world had been bathed in molasses. Until recently, the Monastery had been a haven from that feeling. Everything there moved at her pace, or faster- training and studying and training again.

_ Until recently _ , she thought sarcastically to herself, taking another bite of spaghetti.

Her eyes moved over the table, and sure enough, everyone still seemed as clueless as they’d been for the past few hours. She couldn’t be the only one to see it, could she? It seemed pretty obvious, but nobody had mentioned it yet. There were two huge elephants in the room, but everyone was too focused on their own conversations.

Was it really that hard to see that Jay and Alex looked almost the same? They had the same face! 

It seemed so clear to the littlest ninja; If someone took Alexander’s face, erased most of the freckles, took away the light tan, dyed his hair brown, made his eyes bluer, and broke his nose a few times, they’d have two Jays running around- which was a very frightening thought.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t  _ that _ obvious- but there was definitely a connection between the two that nobody had touched on yet. Maybe they were cousins- family trees were already so weird in the group that another long-lost relative couldn’t hurt. 

The DNA results from his blood test were due back any day, and she could wait until then- as long as she knew she’d get her answers, she could politely ignore that particular elephant, too.

What she didn’t understand was why,  _ why _ in the world nobody else saw the second elephant.

She glanced over at the other side of the table. Cole and Alex (or  _ Pebble  _ and  _ Bee _ , as if that wasn’t a big enough clue) talked amongst themselves about the obsessive fans they’d had to deal with over the years. Cole made a joke, and it must’ve been a good one because Alex laughed so hard he closed his eyes for a moment.

Cole, however, looked like he was about to melt right into the floor. It was like that with the both of them; Cole looked at Alex when the blonde looked away, Alex checked out Cole when the Master of Earth wasn’t looking, and everyone else at the table acted like it didn’t happen.

In a word,  _ infuriating. _

Dawn ran through a list of possibilities, taking a drink of milk. Maybe they were secretly dating? Maybe they’d gone out before, and it hadn’t ended well. Maybe she was just going crazy because nobody was giving her any  _ answers _ .

She chalked it up to her unique perspective- she wasn’t caught up in that romance stuff (and no, Percy didn’t count.) so she was less likely to be distracted or biased. Still, that molasses feeling stuck to the back of her head and made her want to run a mile just to  _ rush _ again. 

Oh, that was a good word! Rush! Rush, rushing, rushed! She pulled out her marker and jotted it down on her wrist, between  _ iridescent _ and  _ asylum _ .

“Whatcha doin’ there, kid?” Kai asked, peering over the table. 

“Saving the word for later,” she replied, pulling up her sleeve to show the words there. Just today, she’d collected over a dozen joy-sparking words. “I don’t want to forget them.”

Alex perked up at that- he probably knew a plethora of wonderful words (she’d learned ' _ plethora' _ a few months ago) from studying at the Oppenheimer.

“Try  _ ethereal, _ ” he suggested, pretending like he wasn’t thinking of Cole as he said it.

“ _ Gossamer, _ ” offered Cole, his voice suddenly a whisper.

She nodded and smiled and jotted them down, but inside her head, the gears were already turning. Where in the world did  _ gossamer  _ come from? Cole’s choice in clothing rarely even had patterns, much less the Fairy-type daintiness the word invoked. It was something Alex-related, she was sure of it. She just had to find out  _ how _ .

“I’m going for a walk,” she declared at the same time Zane mentioned dishes. It only took a moment to reach the courtyard- she’d always been good at using her power for mundane things, moving quickly among them. 

It was what had made her so useful when the Sons of Garmadon had taken over. Having not one, but  _ two _ speedsters made gathering food much easier- no matter how much Mr. Turner had complained about working with a child. 

He’d made her so… mad? No, that wasn’t right.

_ Irritating,  _ that was it. Never quite furious, it always irritated her when the older Elemental Masters referred to her like that- the child, as if that was her one defining trait. As if her vocabulary and power and iron-clad will were negligible just because she was short.

“I’m smart,” she said to herself, pushing past the Monastery doors. “I’m curious and strong and I know people a lot more than they think I do.”

She knew about Nadakhan and the alternate timeline.

She knew about Dareth’s crush on her dad.

She even knew there was something about Alex, something strange. Under the honey and laughter, something was there. Hidden. Waiting.

As if on cue, a bright voice called her name, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“They wouldn’t let you do the dishes, huh?” she called over her shoulder.

Alex stopped when he reached her and simply shrugged. “They said I’d done more than enough this morning. Thought I’d take a walk instead.”

She shrugged and picked up her pace. They went a little way down the mountain, but she stopped when they got to the bridge. Dawn  _ loved _ the bridge- the entire structure funneled the mountain wind perfectly. If she closed her eyes and breathed, she could hear it whispering to her. Singing, almost.

“I’m never going to get used to this mountain,” Alex murmured, staring at the moon. “I haven’t seen a sky this clear in forever.”

That made her think back- for just a moment, back to the mine shafts and eternally gray skies she’d been born into. It sent a shiver through her- how had she lived without the moon? Without fresh air and mountain wind? Come to think of it, she almost didn’t. How Alex lived in the city full-time, without even a forest to run through, sounded almost impossible.

Maybe that was the problem.

“There isn’t much of a moon in the city, huh,” she said, matching his tone. Then, sighing through her nose, she let a little irritation bleed into her words. “I shouldn’t be the one you’re talking to.”

“Huh?” Alex tripped over his own shoes, nearly hitting the floor before regaining his balance. “Talk about what?”

“Alexander.”

That got his attention- full names often did. Jason and Coleman and Alexander tended to pay more attention than Jay or Cole or Alex. It worked well when she  _ needed _ their attention, often for their own good. 

“You don’t have to hide it. Everyone in this house has some sort of emotional baggage that keeps them up at night.”

She hurdled up onto the side of the bridge, letting her legs dangle off the side.

“Everyone?” Alexander leaned onto the bridge next to her.

Dawn shrugged- it was pretty obvious to her. Then again, she had been hanging around the ninja (and learning the lingo from a therapist) for years, and Alexander had only had a few weeks.

“Sure, it’s a pick-your-trauma in there. Ever have terrifying clairvoyant nightmares? Self-identity issues? Well, then you have Zane to talk to.”

Alex’s face twitched, confusion and concern mixing on his face. Still, under those, there was something else- recognition? Dawn continued, hoping to hit a bigger nerve. 

“Abandonment issues? Anger issues? Maybe a superiority complex? That’s Kai’s territory.”

“What does Lloyd talk about?” Alex asked, trying to make a joke out of it.

“Don’t talk to Lloyd,” she replied, a little more sharply than she’d meant. She counted on her fingers, “Savior complex, major self-esteem issues, monumental personal loss, and a family tree so thoroughly dysfunctional it’s practically dead. The boy needs a therapist, at least.”

Alexander hummed and scrunched up his face, but he didn’t react too much. Okay, Dawn thought to herself, what could be skewed inside that mind? 

She thought back to his conversation with Cole at the dinner table. A single second stood out in her mind- their hands had brushed briefly, and Alexander had taken his hand away a little too fast, regret flashing on his face for a split second as he turned away. 

Perfect.

“Ever mess up a relationship so bad you had to take a break and determine if you were even worth a romance in the first place?”

There. He tried to hide it, but the shiver that ran up Alex’s spine was more than noticeable to a trained eye.

“Then?” he asked, his voice suddenly small.

Dawn checked her wrists for the sixtieth time that day. Still perfect- that healing tea really worked wonders- but sometimes she could still feel those cold manacles ripping into her skin. 

“I think you need to talk to Nya.” 

Before he could answer, she headed back up toward the Monastery- slowly at first, but as soon as she was out of eyeshot she couldn’t help but start running.  _ Finally! _

She finally had a basic plot to go on, and all she needed was a few more details- and she knew just where to get them.

She just had to wait a little longer, and the Monastery was a great place to wait. Kai passed her a bowl of ice cream, and Lloyd started a movie.

“Dawn,” he said a little too loudly, bouncing in his seat, “Today starts your education on the wonders of horror movies.”

Dawn glanced at the TV, where the title card flashed in blood-red lettering.  _ The Mark of The Beast _ , and- she had to look twice to be sure- one of the movies that Alex had starred in.

“Do you really think this is appropriate?” Zane asked, slinging an arm over Pixal’s shoulders. “Dawn is only eleven, and this movie is rated R.”

In the corner of her eye, she saw Alex poke his head in from the hallway. Alex said something and Nya looked up, and they both walked out of the room. Perfect.

“Zane,” she said bluntly, setting her ice cream aside for a moment, “If I’m old enough to fight crime and testify in court, I think I’m old enough to watch a horror movie.”

That certainly quieted Zane, though she noticed Pixal whispering jokes to him as the opening scene started. She wasn’t quite sure what kind of scary movie this was but knowing Alex, it couldn’t be  _ that  _ scary.

* * *

Dawn wasn’t often wrong, but  _ boy _ was she wrong about  _ The Mark of the Beast. _

She clutched a pillow to her chest, eyes transfixed on the screen as suspenseful music crawled out of the speakers.

“This is the best part!” Alex whispered from somewhere to her left, tucked up on the couch next to Cole. She couldn’t quite remember when he and Nya had rejoined them in the den, but she didn’t care. All that was going through her head was  _ oh no oh no oh no. _

The main girl- Crystal, maybe? It didn’t matter- breathed heavily, clutching her knife closer in the darkness that engulfed her basement. 

_ Hello? _

She tried to call for her sister, her mother, anybody- but they were already dead, and she was next.

Dawn’s eyes searched the screen- where is he?  _ Where is he? _

A little sound rang out, and Crystal looked up. There, sticking like a cobweb in the bloodied rafters, was the  _ Something _ . The Something that, one by one, had sliced apart Crystal’s family.

The Something was green and black and reddened with the insides of its victims, with spotlight-yellow eyes and fangs dipped in innocent blood. It bent itself all over, picking like a spider down toward the frozen final girl. The worst part was that if she looked past the horns and claws, the Something looked like  _ Alex _ . It looked like  _ Jay _ , which was a very disturbing thought even before the Something spoke.

_ Five souls for me,  _ the Something said from everywhere at once,  _ and you’re marked too. One to go, and you’re marked too. _

The Something snapped upright, lunging at the camera, and Dawn choked back a scream. The others, however, did not, and the den filled with the voices of the horrified ninja.

“Okay!”

Suddenly, the movie switched off and the lights turned on. Dawn whipped her head around to find a very frightened-looking Cole holding the remote.

“Aw, c’mon, Pebble!” Alex said, feigning disappointment, “We were just getting to the part where I bite off her hand!”

“You’re already giving Dawn nightmares!” Cole replied, holding the remote out of reach, “and I don’t think it’s just Dawn.”

She glanced at the others, finding them just as pillow-clutchingly scared as she was- except for Alex, who shrugged in defeat.

“Next movie night, we should totally watch-” Alex started.

“We,” Cole interrupted him, getting to his feet, “are  _ not  _ watching  _ Titus Andronicus _ .”

The blonde stuck his tongue out in response, and Dawn had to once again reevaluate what she thought of him. Perhaps this was another act, or maybe he wasn’t afraid because he knew what was coming. Maybe he just liked horror movies.

“C’mon, Dawn,” Cole said, taking her hand, “it’s bedtime.”

“I’m eleven, not eight.” she protested, but a glance at the clock on the wall showed it was almost midnight, and she stopped wiggling- she had training in the morning, after all. 

Cole walked her to her bedroom, staying in the doorway as she ran over to her notebook and jotted down her words, and ducked behind the privacy screen, and got into her pajamas. 

Now, what would the next step in the story be? She grabbed her pajama top, not bothering to unbutton it before pulling it on. Maybe she could get them to talk to each other some way. She already had a basic plot- but the details were still a little vague for her taste.

“Hey, Zipper? You want a story?”

_ Perfect _ .

She got into bed, cuddling up in the corner with her blankets. She batted her eyelashes and nodded- it always worked on Cole, and this time was no different.

“Alright,” he pulled up her stool and took a seat, “What kind of story?”

She hummed, thinking. A little sound drew her attention, just in time to watch Alex walk across the doorway on his way to the guest room, humming a lullaby she didn’t recognize. Cole watched too, and by the time he turned back to the littlest ninja she was already wearing her brightest, ‘ _ I knew it’ _ smile.

“Okay, it’s not what you-” Cole started, but they both knew that would do nothing. Instead, he sighed through his nose and shifted on the stool. “Fine. You want the story?”

Dawn didn’t even have to nod. She just curled up tighter in her quilts and waited.

“This is the story of two little boys,” Cole said, crossing his arms. “And a big mistake.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple of chapters are gonna be nothing but backstory, so get ready for some childhood cuteness and a whole lotta yearning.


	15. Starting With A Bang (Or In Our Case, A Crash)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of Cole's bedtime story to Dawn, detailing how he met his oldest friend and immediately landed him in the hospital.
> 
> The next couple of chapters will be in the third-person because my other option was a godawful wall of dialogue.
> 
> Choo-choo, all aboard the Tragic Backstory train
> 
> Thirtyish thousand words and I haven't even gotten to the main plot of the story, oops.

Cole didn’t want to go to school.

If he was being honest, he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He didn’t want to stay home, or leave the house, or visit the cemetery, or  _ not  _ visit the cemetery. Mostly, he just didn’t want to go to school.

“Dad,” he tried for what had to be the millionth time, “don’t make me go.”

His dad didn’t answer- and that was the worst part. He never spoke anymore unless he was singing with his troupe, or yelling at his son. He’d just grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and sped up the car little by little.

Cole sat there, in the passenger seat, even though he was only nine and shouldn’t have been able to sit up front just yet. He wasn’t trusted in the backseat anymore.

It wasn’t like he hated his dad- at least, he  _ thought _ he loved his dad, but it wasn’t a very easy or fun thing to do. It got tougher all the time, especially with what was coming up on the left.

Cole refused to look at it. He refused to even think of the name of where he was going. He didn’t want to go, and he wasn’t going to- not as long as he could help it.

The radio wasn’t on in the car anymore- Cole’s dad had turned it off an hour ago when they’d argued about the radio station. That seemed to happen a lot in the Brookstone house. 

An argument over the TV channel? Now the remote’s in the fish tank.

Fighting about what to have for dinner? Cole would be sent to bed hungry.

Even the slightest disagreement over the radio? Like everything else, it would be totally shut off.

Cole busied himself with one of the toys he’d snuck into his bag. Toys, his dad had said that morning, were a distraction a budding performer could not indulge in.

So naturally, Cole had stuffed his bag full of toy cars and action figures. Just in case his dad found those, he also had an armful of stuffed animals in his luggage, a deck of cards in his jacket pocket, and a puzzle hidden in either shoe.

“Put it down,” his father hissed, the first words he’d spoken in hours.

Cole ignored him, running the little metal car across the glove box. He probably shouldn’t have picked his favorite, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now that his dad had seen it. The bright yellow Beetle had a racing stripe along either side, a shiny black lightning bolt that made the car look a little like a bumblebee. It fit so perfectly in Cole’s palm, he was half-convinced it was made for him.

He certainly wasn’t going to put it down.

“Put that stupid thing  _ away, _ ” Cole’s dad growled, clutching the steering wheel tighter.

“Make me,” he snapped back, turning to stare straight out the window.

“Or else-”

“Or else  _ what _ , Dad?” Cole interrupted, raising his voice. “You’ll pack up all my stuff and ship me off to a boarding school?”

Lou didn’t look at his son- and Cole didn’t expect anything different. He’d always looked too much like his mom.

“Cole-”

“You’ll ban me from playing with toys or doing what I want to do forever?”

Cole could feel his temper rising, like magma in his stomach. He clutched his car in one hand and gripped his seat with the other. He refused to drop his eyes.

_ “ _ **_Coleman-_ ** _ ”  _ Lou said, and Cole knew he should stop. Whenever his dad called him that or used that voice, he knew from more than enough experience that only bad things could follow. 

But Cole didn’t want to go to school, and he didn’t stop.

“Sending me away won’t bring Mom back!”

Lou took his eyes off the road and looked at his son. Cole wasn’t focused on his toy at the moment, too caught up in his own anger and regret. It wasn’t much of a struggle when Lou grabbed the little car and, in one swift motion, threw it out the drivers’ side window.

For a moment, everything went quiet again. Cole looked down at his newly empty hand.

He doesn’t quite remember what happened next.

There was yelling from both Brookstones- Lou trying to quiet his son, and Cole too enraged to listen. Something about the car. Something about Lily. Everything at top volume.

Lou was so preoccupied with the argument, he took his eyes off the road. It was just for a second, to scold Cole back into silence. It shouldn’t have done anything at all, not in that tiny moment.

There was a bump, but Cole didn’t realize it until someone started screaming. Lou hit the brakes, sending both Brookstones lurching forward- and both were out of their seats before the car was even in park. Cole rounded the front of the black convertible, following the screaming. He saw the Oppenheimer and refused to look at it again. He saw a crowd of people, some adults and a couple of kids his age.

He looked down and nearly screamed himself.

They’d hit an angel with their car.

Cole blinked slowly, trying to straighten the thoughts in his head. There was a little boy on the pavement, his eyes closed like he was asleep. A lady dressed like a secretary was screaming into a phone a few feet away, begging for an ambulance because Alexander was hurt.

Alexander? Who was Alexander? 

Cole didn’t realize he was by the little boy’s side until he’d already kneeled down and picked up his pale, limp arm. Like a doctor in a movie, he pressed two fingers to the boy’s wrist.

_ Ba-dump! _ Said the little boy’s heart.  _ I’m alive! I’m alive! _

“He’s alive!” Cole found himself shouting, and the people frozen around him all sighed with relief. Somewhere in the distance, an alarm started, but Cole barely heard it. He was focused on the little boy’s other arm, the one bent at a funny angle. Safely tucked in the arm’s crook, without so much as a scratch on it, was a little yellow car with a black racing stripe.

He almost rode in the ambulance with the little boy, but he needed to get to class.

* * *

_ “That’s how you met? Rough start.” _

_ “Actually, we met the next day when he woke up in the hospital.” _

_ “Skip a little- how long did it take for him to recover?” _

_ “...A while.” _

* * *

Cole was starting to like the hospital.

Of course, there wasn’t much choice in the matter. He couldn’t go back home- he was stuck at the Oppenheimer until winter break. He couldn’t go to class either, not really.

Even on the first day, news travels fast in a school. Nobody wanted to room with the kid whose dad hit someone with a car.

After everyone found out who exactly the victim was, nobody wanted to even look in Cole’s direction. The second the name  _ St.Gail _ hit the air, he was tossed to the far reaches of the social scene. He’d worked alone, studied alone, eaten alone, and generally  _ been _ alone for the past week. He’d told himself it was better this way.

With no one willing to work with him, he was exempt from all group work. Teachers usually ignored him, so he’d successfully gotten away with skipping his homework. Eating alone had its perks, too- as long as he was in the lunch line, nobody else was there, and Cole got the first pick of food.

Maybe if he was a little older, he would’ve loved his situation. Usually, he liked being alone just fine- but right now, he’d much rather have someone to talk to.

“Hey, it’s you again!”

That’s why he liked the hospital so much.

“Hi, Alex,” he called back, stepping through the doorway of room 314 of St. Kori’s Hospital. He’d visited so many times, the staff had learned his face. It made navigating the halls a lot easier.

“How’s the liver?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

The boy in the bed cracked a smile that could only mean he was thinking up a pun.

“Oh, you know. Liver-in’,” he said, sticking out his tongue for added effect. “Didja bring me anythin’?”

Cole tried to smile as he waved a deck of cards in the air. He still felt a little uneasy around Alex, the smallest reason being just how dainty he looked.

Alex reminded him of a doll he’d seen in a toy shop window, as if he could break at any moment; air the color of gold, pale skin dusted in freckles, and huge eyes that almost changed color in the bright light of the hospital room.

Then again, he’d survived being hit by a car with only a few broken ribs and a bruised liver. Maybe Alex was tougher than he looked.

“C’mon, deal ‘em out!” Alex said as Cole climbed onto the foot of the hospital bed. “I haven’t had someone to talk to since breakfast!”

“So you want to talk to  _ me? _ ” Cole asked for the hundredth time that week, dealing out the cards.

“Cole,” Alex said, picking up each card he was dealt, “I’ve been so bored I’d been fixin’ to talk with my heart monitor.”

He always talked like that, in the accent Cole couldn’t quite place. Weird phrases, clipped words, and never quite pronouncing his ‘r’ sounds right. He almost didn’t believe Alex was living with Cliff Gordon, no matter how many times he watched the talent show footage.

“Twos?” Cole asked, sorting his hand. “You’re sure you want to talk to the son of the man who landed you in the hospital?”

Alex tutted for a moment, shifting his cards around. And passing a two over.

“I’m just happy I know someone in my class at the Oppenheimer. Fours?”

That hit Cole like a truck. He shook his head, glancing around the room.

“You haven’t met anyone else?” he asked, gesturing to the small mountain of flowers in the far corner of the room. “Who sent those?”

Alex put down his cards for a moment, counting on his fingers. “Mr. Gordon, his secretary- Christie, the one who called 911, remember? Then there was a news intern, Gail something, and a few people from the crowd at the talent show. All the delivery guys were in a rush, though, so I didn’t get to say thanks.”

He curled in on himself, brushing a gold-colored curl behind his ear.

“I haven’t spoken with much of anyone ‘cept you. Thanks, and for those, too.” he added, nodding at the bedside table. On it, a handful of brightly colored plush animals sat, along with the little metal car that started it all. Still perfectly polished, not even a scratch on the yellow paint.

“Don’t thank me,” Cole muttered back, “It was the least I could do,”

Alex shook his head, “Nope, you’ve been thanked. No take-backs.”

“No, please! Not thank-yous! Anything but thank-yous!”

Alex cackled, and Cole couldn’t help but laugh, too. If they were going to a school for performing arts, they may as well start acting now. Cole asked for sevens.

A nurse slid into the room, worry etched on her face.

“Mr. St. Gail!” she snapped, and all at once, Alex stopped laughing. The nurse stormed forward, bypassing Cole completely.

“You still have healing to do. You know the rules; no excitement until you’re healed, or you may be stuck here for a lot longer. Keep your heart rate  _ low _ .”

Cole tried his best to silently sneak out of the room, but the damn cards clattered onto the floor and drew the nurses’ attention.

“I think it’s time you returned to class, Mr. Brookstone.” she said icily, “you’ve done enough damage.”

“Bye, Cole,” Alex said softly, dropping his eyes.

What else was there to do? Cole turned and left.

* * *

_ “Ouch.” _

_ “Don’t worry, It got better once he started school...kinda.” _

_ “Kinda? What, does he get hit by a car again?” _

_ “...” _

_ “Cole?” _


	16. Changed For Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun"
> 
> Detailing how the friendship that is Cole and Alex started, and how Alex was before being 'trained'.

Cole held his breath, shrinking back into the shadows and the dark curtains lining the theater. It wasn’t easy hiding when everyone else was at least a head shorter than he was, but he managed.

“Next!” the teacher called from her place in the seats, clicking her pen against her clipboard.

Sorry,  _ professor. _ Professor Shaw, as she insisted on calling herself, carefully fixed her snow-white bun and screamed again for another performer. 

_ Not me, _ Cole thought as loudly as he could.  _ Not me, not me! _

“Me next! I’m next, Professor!” a little girl shouted from a few feet to Cole’s left, running into the spotlight. She batted her huge, bright violet eyes down at the professor, curtsying prettily.

“Who are you?” said the professor flatly, not bothering to look up at the stage.

It was as if all the air had been let out of the little girl. She deflated like a balloon, her bright smile falling. She blinked slowly, as if she hadn’t heard the teacher quite right.

“Juliana Danube, Professor,” she said quietly, tucking a piece of fiery hair behind her ear. The professor waved a hand, tapping her foot impatiently on the cold concrete floor of the auditorium. Juliana gulped, smoothing her dress as she stepped up to the mic.

“You’ve got this, Julie!” whispered a dark-skinned girl with feathery hair Cole remembered was named Katie.

Julie smiled uneasily at her friend and turned back to the mic. She started to sing, a slow and high little number about penguins dancing about on an iceberg. She sang sweetly, fluttering her eyes and posing cutely with every line. Cole spared a glance at the professor, her face unchanged from the bitter expression she’d been wearing since the school year started.

Still, Julie seemed to gain confidence as the song went on. She tried a little trick, spinning in a circle as she hit the high note.

_ Big mistake _ , Cole thought as the little girl’s voice cracked, sending a squeak through the air.

Silence hit the auditorium like a ton of bricks. Juliana clapped her hands to her mouth, Katie sucked in a breath, and even the kids in the theater wings stopped their whispered conversations. To crack in practice was one thing, but to mess up a high note in front of a teacher? That was certainly another.

Professor Shaw tutted and scribbled something down. Julie opened her mouth, ready to try again or beg for forgiveness- one of the two.

“That will be all,” the professor held up a hand, waving the little girl off. Her face didn’t change, not even when the ginger girl started to cry as she ran from the spotlight and into the shadows, nearly bumping into Cole as she spirited past.

“Next!” the professor’s taught voice broke the silence.

Cole found himself alone in the shadows- Katie must have run after the sobbing Juliana. Ice crept through his veins, and he clutched the wall a little closer. In just a moment, Professor Shaw would check the roster, and call someone’s name. He ran through who had already gone in his head; Julie, that Milo kid with the glasses, the boy who always wore a suit to class, and the three Pierres who always hung out in a group.

That left only five people left to go, including himself. Cole had a one-in-five chance of going up and performing in front of everyone in just a moment. The thought of it made him feel too nauseous to think.

So nauseous, in fact, that he didn’t hear the auditorium door creak open.

“Hello,” a bright and familiar voice called out, “is this Professor Shaw’s class?”

All at once, Cole could breathe again, the pressure lifted from his shoulders by the entrance of another. The professor tutted again and waved the little boy onto the stage.

He looked so small, golden hair bleached white under the stage lights, but he didn’t waver even under the professor’s glare.

“Who are you?” she said flatly, clicking her pen.

“My name is Alexander St. Gail, ma’am,” the blonde boy said, setting his gaze on the woman in the seats, “I’ve been told it’s performance day.”

A rush of whispers flitted through the wings of the theatre- everyone knew the St. Gail kid.

“Voice like an angel-”

“-Cliff Gordon-”

“-hit by a car-”

“-Brookstone’s fault, I’m sure of it!”

Professor Shaw cleared away the noise with a tutting sound, waving Alexander toward the mic. 

The little boy straightened up, shifting his casted arm to rest at his side. His eyes glanced over into the shadows, straight at Cole, and he smiled. How he knew Cole was there, Cole didn’t quite know, and he didn’t quite care why, because Alex started singing and the world washed away.

The song was a simple one, like a lullaby. Alex sang about the moon and the stars and the sea, finding freedom in dreams as he swayed gently under the harsh spotlight. He sang in a voice as bright and clear as a mountain stream- though Cole would never say that out loud.

It only took a few minutes, and when he was done, Alex gave a little bow and thanked the professor.

Cole let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Very well done, Mr. St. Gail.” the professor said, no emotion in her voice as she waved him off.

Cole had never heard Alex sing in person before, and he’d never expected it to be so nice. What he really didn’t expect was when Alex turned and ran for him. The whispers in the theater wings started again.

“Brookstone?!”

“Oh my  _ gosh _ did you hear-”

“-my Mom said-”

“-a tough act to follow.”

“Next!” Professor Shaw called, shattering the children’s conversations.

A girl who introduced herself as Marie stepped up, fear clearly etched on her face as she fluffed her tutu. She glanced over to Alex, saw Cole there in the shadows, and disgust mixed in with the fear.

“Did I do good?” Alex whispered as the girl stepped up to the spotlight.

“You were great, that glare was for me,” Cole added, nodding toward Marie. “Not many people like someone who put another kid in the hospital.”

Alex blinked like he’d been flicked between the eyes, shooting a glare over toward the stage, where Marie was doing some ballet nonsense Cole didn’t understand.

“If they were so worried, they could’ve visited.” Alex turned toward him, his eyes the color of storm clouds. “They didn’t. You did.”

Cole glanced at the blonde boy next to him, and couldn’t do anything but shrug. Alex, for all intents and purposes, was right- a phrase Cole had a feeling he was going to use a lot.

* * *

_ “How’d your performance go?” _

_ “I sprained my ankle.” _

_ “Wow, you were that bad?” _

_ “No, the Marie girl tripped me on my way out of the theater.” _

* * *

“She shouldn’t ‘a done that,” Alex said again, shoving an armful of clothes into his wardrobe. It didn’t look easy, unpacking with one arm in a cast, but Cole couldn’t do much to help him at the moment.

Cole adjusted the ice pack on his ankle, wincing as a shot of pain blossomed there. The ice was certainly helping, but the meds hadn’t kicked in yet and Cole had been confined to his bed for- he spared a glance at the clock on the wall- an hour and a half.

“I’ll be fine, just gotta wait until the pain meds kick in.”

Alex turned away, hucking an expensive-looking duffel bag onto his bed. The bag made a lonely, hollow sound as it hit the wall.

“What’s in the bag?” Cole asked, unsure if he wanted to know.

On one hand, the duffel could be full of candy.

On the other, he’d only known the guy for a week. Maybe he kept a taxidermy bear head in there, or a jar full of eyeballs. Alex could be sneaking in a hollow baby corpse full of cocaine, or illegal snake eggs, or-

_ Thunk _ .

Cole brought a hand to his forehead, gingerly feeling where a new spark of pain grew. On his lap, there was suddenly a plain block of wood, no bigger than a baseball.

“And you’re carrying around blocks...why?”

He heard a little  _ click _ sound, and when he looked up Alex was holding a knife. Cole’s back hit the wall as he scrambled backward, a gasp caught in his throat.

Alex barked a laugh, but it wasn’t his usual laugh. Cole didn’t know if he had a usual laugh- but the harsh sound didn’t sound like anything Alex would ever make.

The blonde turned and grabbed one of the wooden blocks. He turned it around, showing Cole the beginnings of what looked like a butterfly emerging from the wood, delicate wings decorated with paisleys and flowers. 

Cole found that he could breathe again. “You’re a  _ carver, _ ” he said, and Alex laughed again but lighter this time. 

“I figured a little carving would, y’know, calm me down…Or,” the blonde said, a mischievous kind of smile crossing his face.

“Or?” Cole asked, remembering the word  _ pixie _ existed.

“How d’you think Marie would react to a ‘spider’ in her bed?”

It was Cole who laughed this time, his back hitting the wall again. He could see it in his mind, the prim and proper Marie screaming over Alex’s little wooden trick. It would work, too- the butterfly looked real enough, and Cole had a feeling a tarantula wouldn’t be any more of a task.

“Didn’t think you were the revenge type, Alex.”

The other boy shrugged and turned down to his butterfly. Cole couldn’t see what exactly he was doing, he kept his carving tucked close to him. 

Cole laid down- he hated the damn place, but at least the beds were comfy. He just wished the ceiling wasn’t so boring. Back home, he’d had glow-in-the-dark stars glued up there- he spared a thought to wonder if the staff would let him get some.

“Revenge is for those with too little to lose.”

“What?” it took a second for Cole to realize that Alex had spoken, and a second longer to realize he’d replied. “Who told you that?”

When Alex looked up, tears were already streaming down his face. His shaking hands dropped the carving and the knife. 

“My uncle-” was all he said before something choked his voice, his hands clutching on either side of his face.

A pit formed in Cole’s stomach. He’d lost his mom over a year ago, but it still hurt to think about. He felt like crying himself every time he thought about it.

“I’m sorry,” he tried, but he knew it wouldn’t do much.

“I’m not gonna lose anything else,” Alex said, swallowing hard between words. “I have a rep-u-ta-tion now, and I can’t lose it.”

The way he talked, it was like somebody else had taken over his body. Someone cold and hard and proper, without an accent or a smile in sight. He spat out each word carefully, hitting the r’s and t’s just a little too hard.

“Hey, you gotta breathe.” Whoever this too-sharp sunbeam was, Cole knew well enough that being  _ that _ angry could only end up in car crashes and hurt feelings. “You said carving calms you down?”

Alex scrubbed his sleeve on his face, as if to wipe his freckles away. He silently nodded, reaching for the knife again.

“So, carve something.” Cole suggested, “carve anything. Carve-” he looked around, but the room was too plain to give him many ideas. 

“Oh! Him!” Cole pointed, and Alex followed his finger out through the window. There, under a strong oak tree, sat a brown-and-gray pile of fluff.

“The raccoon?”

“Sure- who could be mad, looking at that face?”

Alex scoffed and stuck his tongue out, but his hands weren’t shaking anymore as he grabbed a fresh wood block.

_ Crisis averted _ , thought Cole as he resumed his ceiling-staring. He tried flexing his ankle and immediately regretted it.

“What calms you down?”

Cole hummed a little, sitting back up. He raised an eyebrow, and that was all it took to get Alex talking again.

“I mean, I heard some kids talking- not that I believe them- and they said that rooming is  _ permanent _ , which to be honest sounds kinda nice because everyone in the class seems like a category 5 jerk, so I’m gonna be stuck with you and you with me for a while, and (sorry for the tears there I’ve been working on it) I thought since you know what calms me down I could do the same so neither of us ends up stranglin’ anybody-”

He rambled on for a little while, faster and faster until his words smashed together and his r’s disappeared completely. All the while, the little boy waved his carving knife around, like he was carving an idea out of the air.

“Drawing,” Cole offered, holding up a hand, “drawing always makes me feel better. And hiking.”

Alexander threw a smile his way and went back to his carving, and Cole went back to looking at the ceiling. In the past ten minutes, the kid across the room had gone from vengeful fury, to sobbing, to excited rambling- and Cole wouldn’t trade him for anyone else. He really wouldn't, he realized, staring up at the ceiling. If he had the option to room with another or room by himself or even go home, he'd much rather stay and listen to Alex humming as he coaxed the shape of a raccoon out of wood.

He decided not to think too hard about it.

* * *

_ “Aww!” _

_ “It only got worse from there.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, oops. Two chapters in one day. I only did this because I have a math test and I probably won't be able to post next week :)
> 
> (I'm sorry)


	17. My Silence Is My Self Defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story, Cole doesn't tell Dawn. It happened, but the littlest ninja doesn't know it yet. Keep that in mind later in the story.
> 
> Title taken from the Billy Joel song, "And So It Goes"
> 
> Fun fact, this fic is now longer than "Of Mice And Men" by John Steinbeck. I have now written a novella about Lego ninjas, and this story isn't halfway through.
> 
> Wonderful life I'm living

Cole woke with a start, a gasp hitching in his throat. The last thing he remembered was the hazy feeling his dreams always had, holding his Mom’s hand as her heart monitor flatlined- a long and hollow _beep_ that still rang in his ears as he sat up, clutching at his blankets.

Even a year later, every once in a while that sound would come back to haunt him. It always happened after a bad day- a nasty fight with his Dad, or the first day of school- or spraining his ankle, in the current case.

Cole sighed, slowly bringing his heart rate back down. He knew just what to do after a nightmare; a cup of water and some cartoons.

“No cartoons here,” he reminded himself in as low a voice as he could muster. The only TV at the Oppenheimer was the projector in the auditorium and the occasional outing to the movie theater for a class. 

Water, he decided without risking another sound, would have to do.

He clamored down from his bed, careful to keep his weight off of his ankle. Even the smallest squeak could get him caught by a night watchman- or worse, by Alex.

He didn’t know if Alex was a heavy sleeper or not, and he really didn’t need to be labeled a scaredy-cat. Nightmares, everyone knew, were for sissies and weaklings and easy targets.

Cole refused to be an easy target. 

He carefully shuffled across the floor, keeping a hand on his bedframe or a wall to keep his balance.

He didn’t know what time it was, but the moon was shining through the window shades so it was safe to assume he had some time before it was morning. He took his time inching past, always keeping his eyes on the bathroom door just a few feet away.

If he could just make it there, he’d be safe, and nobody ( _especially_ Alex) would have to know.

Something like a sniffle caught his attention, and his head whipped around to watch for movement. The bundle of blankets on the far bed, which he assumed had Alex somewhere in the middle of it, shifted once, twice...and then lay still.

Cole watched his roommate (the word still sounded weird in his head) for a few seconds longer, but there wasn’t anything else to watch. At least for the moment, Cole was safe.

He made it to the bathroom and closed the door as quietly as he could.

Safe. At last.

He splashed some water on his face, again and again until the water was as cold as it could be and the stickiness was gone from his eyes. He blinked hard, looking his reflection in the eyes.

Bright green- _bottle green_ was what his dad used to call them. There were supposedly gold flecks in them, too, but Cole never looked close enough to see them. He hadn’t looked at himself closely in over a year if he was being totally honest, and neither had his dad.

His eyes weren’t bottle green anymore- the word didn’t fit, and it hadn’t for a long time. Now, they were just a reminder of that hollow _beep_ and the lonely graveyard he knew that Mom would hate. Empty and lonely and devoid of life.

If anyone asked, Cole had the words on the tip of his tongue. His eyes weren’t bottle green, or emerald, or jade. Those words were far too pretty, far too much like Mom.

Cole’s eyes were ghost green.

 _Ghost Green_ , he ran over the words a hundred times, sipping freezing water from the tap. 

_Deep breath in, deep breath out, and nobody has to know._

Slowly, slowly, Cole turned off the water and dried his face. Now, he could go back to sleep, and nobody would be any wiser.

He’d just clicked the bathroom door shut again when another sound hit the air. Cole looked across the room and sucked in a breath- in the few minutes he’d been in the bathroom, the Alex-cocoon had undergone a serious transformation.

The blankets scattered the floor. The little boy in the bed looked even littler than he was, shivering in his thin pajamas and the September air. He looked almost blue in the silver moonlight, twitching and breathing shakily.

Cole spared a thought to hate Cliff Gordon a little- for such a rich guy, you would think he could afford to buy his ward some better pajamas. He grabbed the blankets off of the floor and threw them over Alex, but the little blonde boy didn’t stop shivering. If anything, the shaking got worse.

Cole didn’t know what a nightmare looked like, but this was a pretty good guess.

“Alex?” he said as softly as he could, taking a step toward his shivering roommate. “Alex?” he tried again, a little louder. He reached out and, as lightly as he could, touched Alex’s shoulder.

It was like a switch had flipped.

All at once, Alex was awake- at least, his eyes opened. He bolted upright, eyes wide open, the shivering not gone but worsened. The whole bed shook, and Cole nearly flinched his hand away not because of the shaking or the suddenness- the only reason he moved at all was Alex’s eyes.

He’d only known the guy for a week, but well enough to know his eyes. Alex’s eyes, Cole knew, were a steely silver kind of blue you never saw in nature- except maybe on the linings of clouds. In the right lighting, they looked neatly white- but nothing had ever come close to Alex’s eyes now.

For days afterward, Cole would try to describe the color to himself. He would even borrow a copy of ‘1001 Color Words’ from the school library. He tried _amber_ , and _butter,_ and _dandelion._ _Canary_ and _lemon_ and a million other words for yellow that never came close to the real thing. _Honey_ was the closest he could find, and even that didn’t quite fit. In the end, after a week of searching, Cole had to resign himself to the word he’d thought at that moment.

_God, his eyes are golden._

“He’s going to die.”

Cole hadn’t even realized Alex had spoken. Shivering and wide-eyed, Alexander seemed in some sort of trance. He didn’t look at Cole so much as through him, off to somewhere only he could see. His voice came from everywhere at once

“Gold and white and winter,” Alex whispered, unblinking, “And five become four.”

Paler and paler and colder still, the golden-eyed Not-Alexander spoke like a ghost, a spirit given life again.

 _Ghost,_ Cole’s mind whispered again, and he shivered.

“Alex,” he said, trying his best not to take his hand away. “Alex, you have to wake up.”

“I’m missing something,” the blonde insisted, “Trains and tempests and twenty-three.”

Panic crept through Cole’s veins, as cold as the shoulder his hand rested on. He’d never heard anything like this before- a trance was weird enough, but the change in his eyes? His voice? The strange words? If something was wrong, he needed to make it right _fast_ , before the security guard made his rounds.

He shook the smaller boy, hoping to jar him out of whatever had him.

“Please,” he tried again, “Alex, _please_!”

For the first time, the golden-eyed boy looked at him. Cole’s blood froze in his veins, but something happened to the other boy’s face. It softened, melting like butter into something so pure and good and happy Cole could swear it turned night into day.

“Don’t worry, we’ll both come back,” Alex murmured, and for the first time in the moment that felt like forever, he blinked.

He blinked, and the night was night again. 

“Cole, what happened?”

What’s more, Alexander’s eyes were normal again- as silvery-white as the full moon just outside the window. His face was confused and maybe a little worried, the farthest thing from the blank, golden stare from a moment ago.

A twinge of fear crossed Alexander’s face, “Oh, did I have another nightmare? I’m sorry.”

You had more than a nightmare, Cole wanted to say. You went to another world, brought back two tons of crazy, and threw it all at me without even waking up first.

Instead, he realized his mouth was still open, and carefully closed it.

“You have nightmares?” Cole found himself saying, and the little boy nodded gravely.

“Get back in bed, the security guard’s coming.”

A sudden, light push to the middle of his chest sent Cole stumbling back to his bunk. Something told him that despite everything- just waking up, the silence from the hall, and the fact that the security guard shouldn’t come through for another hour at least- despite everything, Alex would be right.

Cole got into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and fluttering his eyes closed. As if on cue, the door unlocked and opened a second later.

“Check on the kids, she says…” a deep voice came from the doorway. “You’ll get a raise for attentiveness, she says. I gotta get a better job…” and the door closed again.

Once Cole got over his shock, he crept back over to the other bed, where Alex lay shivering not quite as badly as before. He decided not to ask.

“You have nightmares?” he said instead.

“About my uncle, mostly,” Alex whispered, scrubbing his face with his sleeve. “I miss him a lot, you know? I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

Cole opened his mouth and closed it again. What could he say? ‘I’m sorry’ never helped him, it never helped anybody with something like this. It was too dark for carving, too, so Alex couldn’t carve to calm himself.

“It’s okay to miss people, Alex,” he started, feeling silver eyes on him with every word. At least he was looking _at_ him now, instead of _through_ him.

“All that stuff people don’t like to talk about- getting mad, and crying, and even nightmares- it happens, and everyone’s got to deal with it.”

Alex scrubbed his face with one sleeve, and it was only then that Cole realized they were holding each others’ hands. Alex squeezed, and Cole squeezed back.

“You’re really smart, Cole,” Alex said, scooting back toward the wall but still not letting go. Cole, refusing to let go either, followed him until they were both situated on the bed farthest from the door. Maybe unconsciously, they both wanted as far away from the outside world as possible. 

“Not really,” Cole replied in as low a voice as he could muster, “if I was smarter, I would’ve become a doctor or something.”

Even in the darkness, Cole could tell when Alex smiled. Somehow, the eight-year-old had absolutely _perfect_ teeth. 

“Well, what _do_ you wanna be?”

That question caught him off guard. He didn’t know, to be honest- he didn’t have a clue. He was just happy that the subject of missing people had been dropped, and he had a feeling Alex felt the same way.

“Maybe a police officer?” he knew as he said it that he didn’t sound convinced, but he tried anyway, “Something where I don’t have to dance, and I can keep people safe.”

“Like a bodyguard?”

He didn’t know why, but Cole felt like laughing.

“Absolutely. When you grow up and become a famous movie star, I’ll be your bodyguard.”

Alex chuckled, and Cole felt a pressure on his shoulder- a tired little head with too much in it, looking for a place to rest. Out of the trance, Alex was so warm- a little candlelight just for him. The warmth from the other boy spread from Cole’s shoulder and hand and all through him until it didn’t seem so much like September anymore.

“We’re friends, right?” a tiny voice broke the momentary silence. Cole nodded, all his words were forgotten.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

That could have meant so many things. What was Alex promising to keep quiet about? The nightmares? The trance? Their plans for the future, just a tiny handhold in a sea of darkness and adversity? 

It didn’t matter, not really. At that moment- at the school, in the dark, the two little boys only had each other. Cole couldn’t tell the future, but between Alex and his father, he knew exactly who he could trust. It wasn’t the man who’d sent him here- it was the tiny blonde boy next to him. The one with too many feelings and nightmares and, somehow, trust in him.

Cole hadn’t been trusted in far too long. He squeezed Alex’s hand a little harder and whispered into the darkness as his eyelids grew heavy.

“Please.”

Just before he dozed off, he heard that voice again. As the warmth and his own exhaustion dragged him down into his dreams again, Cole heard it.

“Forever, then.” 

* * *

They’d keep that promise. For years and years, no secret between the two ever escaped that bond. If they went back now, back to the room they’d shared for so long, they could trace exactly where everything had happened. Cole remembered where he was standing when he’d first told Alex about his mom, and the precise place in the carpet Alex had been sitting when he’d come out for the very first time. It seemed for the longest like nothing could tear the two apart, that they’d be the very best of friends forever.

* * *

_“Cole? You’ve been staring into space.”_

_“Just thinking.”_

_“About what?”_

_“...”_

_“What happened next?”_

_“Next? Next, I fell in love.”_


	18. Unlucky In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened next? Cole fell in love.
> 
> Then the real problems started.

Cole couldn’t breathe.

He tried- he certainly  _ tried _ , but the squeezing feeling around his heart wouldn’t go away. It felt like his chest was hollow, and every breath he tried to take was only about a fourth of what he needed. The weight on his chest only got heavier as the spotlight switched on.

His dress shirt itched, the collar just a little too tight. The velvet seat under him trapped every ounce of body heat inside his stupid rental suit, and he just  _ knew  _ he looked ridiculous in the half-done Windsor knot he’d wrangled out of a tutorial book- it wasn’t his fault that the only tie he could find was a bright red thrift shop number that from afar looked polka-dotted.

(It was only after buying it that he’d realized, no, those were tiny frosted doughnuts on his tie.)

Looking stupid, feeling ridiculous, and thoroughly uncomfortable, Cole didn’t give a damn about any of it. All he could focus on, all that mattered as he sat in the theater was the perfect white glow lighting up the stage. Cole caught sight of cardboard carefully painted to resemble rose bushes and spared a thought to remember the last few months.

Chaos.

Ever since the last showcase, ever since that talent scout had swooped in for their first-ever big show, their entire class; two dozen eighteens, a seventeen, and a sixteen, had worked day and night pulling the whole thing together. 

Twelve weeks so stressful, so chock full of everything they needed to do, that not one teacher had made Cole perform the whole time- a tiny blessing he hoped would keep going even after it was all over. 

Instead of dancing, he got to draw and hike and watch his favorite person in the world prepare for his first-ever big role.

(He tried not to use the word  _ favorite _ too much, but he couldn’t help it.)

He remembered the three Pierres working tirelessly, examining the gardens to get the most accurate shading for the rose bushes. Even the tiniest detail had clear care and effort put into it, and the spotlight idled on the scene to highlight their work.

A gruff male voice muttered something behind Cole’s head. He turned and looked, finding a rather furious looking man crossing his arms and staring at the stage, his face beet red. Cole recognized him as Marie’s father- they had the same death glare.

“Utterly ridiculous,” he muttered, ignoring Cole’s pointed stare.

It wouldn’t do anything but Cole still wanted to say something. To point out that hey, it wasn’t Alex’s fault that the adults in charge had decided to do a gender-blind casting.

It wasn’t his fault that Marie, while very pretty, was insufferable to work with even for the most patient producers.

It  _ certainly _ wasn’t his fault that even as the youngest person in the class- a year behind Cole and two years behind everyone else- Alex could sing, dance, and act circles around everyone.

(He took a second to remember the look on Alex’s face when Cole had read off the cast list. The memory still made his face heat up, though he didn’t exactly know why.)

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” 

Cole snapped to attention, his eyes on the stage at once. He’d been so distracted by his own memory that he’d missed the first few lines of the scene. He looked up at the stage. Juliana Call-Me-Julie Danube gestured wildly as she walked through the fake orchard in her blue pantaloons.

The costuming for the whole thing had been covered by the artist previously known as Katie. If Cole looked, he was sure he could spot Hawk with their fluffy hair, eyes trained on Julie/Romeo. 

Julie’s lines continued, and the spotlight changed from a harsh white to a soft almost peachy color, slowly traveling up toward the impressive wood-and-cardboard balcony.

Cole looked up, too entranced to care about Romeo’s lines. All at once, he found himself once again unable to breathe.

Alexander stepped softly into view, fluttering his eyes as the light washed over him. The soft pink-and-red robes he wore fit him perfectly, though Cole still thought that yellow would have suited him better. 

Yellow striped with black, maybe- like a bumblebee.

_ It’s more thematically appropriate, you gay disaster, _ Hawk’s voice said in his head.

Alex/Juliet brushed a lock of golden hair behind his ear, gazing into the distance and placing a hand softly onto the railing- it had to be softly, or else he’d fall through like he had in rehearsals only a week before. 

Alexander had many talents, and one of them seemed to be getting hurt. A car crash, bruised and broken ribs, several sprained joints and what had to be a million more injuries over the years- and none of them stopped him.

“Ay, me!” he said, heartbreak in his voice, clutching over his heart.

The change in the audience could have been felt a mile away. With those two little words, Alex as Juliet had won the whole theater over- except for maybe Marie and her father.

“Speak again, bright angel!” Julie as Romeo called up, beckoning with each word.

With a few more lines, the monologue that Cole had been waiting all week for began.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen this before. He’d taken the opportunity the last few days to catch up on homework and go for hikes- Alex had been adamant about him only coming closing night. Something about the novelty of the performance wearing off- but he barely cared about that anymore. He was here, and on pain of death, he wouldn’t leave until the play was done.

“O, Romeo! Romeo!” the angel on the balcony began, pulling his glittering cape closer over his shoulders. “Wherefore art thou, Romeo?”

The cape had been especially taxing for the already overworked Hawk, but it was certainly worth the effect. As fine and glittering as, quote, ‘a spiderweb after the first frost’, the fabric shimmered with every movement, making Juliet look even more beautiful and dainty than he already was.

_ Gossamer, _ Cole remembered, had been the defining word as Hawk called for a third energy drink in order to finish the cape. Gossamer and delicate as a fairy’s wings. His Alex looked absolutely wonderful.

“Deny thy father,” Alexander begged the empty air, “and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

Cole was so caught up in the scene, the sheer emotion on the stage, that he nearly didn’t catch his own thought. He tried to think back.

Was it the time Alex had spent a whole day sticking glow-in-the-dark stars on the dorm room ceiling, taking care to get the constellations just right?

Was it the hundreds of nights spent huddled together, keeping the nightmares away?

Or, was it just now? Just then, watching a boy in a gossamer cloak begging the world for someone to love?

When, exactly  _ when  _ had Alex become ‘his’ in his mind?

Cole tried to make himself breathe, but it was difficult. Realizing you’re in love with your best friend tends to knock the wind out of you.

_ Love, _ the word echoed a million times in the space between Cole’s ears as he forced himself to sit still. That was the word, wasn’t it? It wasn’t a crush anymore- come to think of it, whatever he was feeling had been much more than a crush for a while.

Alexander continued, cementing his place in the audience’s memories and his future career as a world-famous movie star. 

And Cole, face burning and thoroughly breathless, loved him.

The play was only two hours long. Two hours he’d sat there alone, watching from afar and slowly, slowly piecing a plan together. 

It was difficult. Plans had been one of Cole’s strong suits (Alex had labeled him a strategist years ago) but he kept losing his concentration whenever ‘Juliet’ spoke- which considering the play was ‘Romeo and Juliet’ he lost his concentration a  _ lot _ .

Still, he’d managed to cobble together a pretty good plan with a few minutes to spare. The final curtain dropped over Julie and Bee’s dead bodies, the audience clapped, and Cole was out of his seat even before the lights flickered on.

The doorman called after him as he blew past, but he didn’t have time. 

Down the plush carpeted stairs, through the gold-trimmed hallways, pushing past the crowd in the lobby- he moved so fast he didn’t quite realize where he was until the frigid air hit his face. He dodged a kid in a bright red coat, making his way westward. On the corner, he knew, was a small florists’ shop.

At least to Cole, early spring always seemed even colder than the dead of winter. He hadn’t been cold in December in years, the same amount of time since he’d last spent winter break at home. 

For the past six or seven years, the Winter Solstice had been celebrated in their tiny dorm room covered in fairy lights and piles of blankets. Four of them- Julie and Hawk and Alex and Cole- crammed like sardines two to a bed and taking turns swiping food from the kitchen.

Spring, however, drew with it the thought of graduation.

Cole drew his jacket closer around his shoulders, even though he knew it would do nothing to keep out the chill.

Only a few months from now- May 28th to be precise- they’d be out of the Oppenheimer. They’d never spoken about it, but Cole knew they’d be facing the very real possibility that Alex might go somewhere that Cole couldn’t follow. 

Whatever he was doing, he had to do it  _ now _ .

The shop on the corner was boiling compared to the February wind outside, but Cole ignored his discomfort in favor of palming his pockets for his dad’s credit card.

“Oh, hello!” the young lady behind the counter chirped, pinning a large pin shaped like a heart into her hair. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, uh-” and with that, Cole had forgotten every word in existence. Maybe it was the girl’s heart-shaped pin reminding him why exactly he’d snuck out of the theater. He tried again.

“I need a bouquet,” he said, sighing heavily, “to tell someone how I feel.”

The girl perked up, her dark eyes sparkling.

“A  _ special  _ someone?” she asked, her tone making known exactly what she meant. “What’s her name?”

Cole tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. Of course she’d assume the special someone was a  _ she _ . He could lie and give a random, feminine name. He could tell a half-truth and say Alex, or Bee. There were a million names he could give, but unfortunately Cole was a horrible actor.

“Alexander,” he said quietly.

“Oh, so then you’d like a rainbow ribbon?” the girl- her name tag said  _ Cecelia _ \- didn’t miss a beat, and Cole tried not to sigh with relief. “And roses?”

“Right!” he glanced around the shop. He’d planned a bouquet, but now that he was here he had no idea what the bouquet should be. “Red? No, yellow? Maybe? Are striped roses a thing?”

“Backstory!” demanded Cecelia, pulling a silky, seven-striped ribbon out of a display case.

“I’ve known this guy since we were kids,” Cole started, not entirely realizing he was talking as he scanned the room. “It’s been seven- no, eight years since we met, I just now realized I’m in love with him, and in like three months we’re graduating high school and I may never see him afterward.”

“Emergency confession?” Cecelia asked, and Cole nodded as best he could. “Alright, hand me the black dye and I’ll be done in five minutes.” 

Cole, ignoring his shaking hands, tossed her the bottle. True to her word, within five minutes she handed him the weirdest bouquet he’d ever seen.

(The weirdness is important, Cecelia said. It makes it unique to the two of you)

Lined in white paper and wrapped with a rainbow ribbon, a dozen roses tucked together in an obnoxiously specific manner. Cole paid- his dad could deal with the bill- thanked Cecelia again, and charged out into the February chill.

Within five minutes, he was waiting on a bench across the street from the theater- perfectly within eyeshot of the door that the cast would come through.

He checked the bouquet again.

Eight roses in a ring, alternating color. Four yellow, and four black. According to Cecelia, they meant ‘friendship’ and ‘new beginnings’. Yellow and black, like a bumblebee.

The inner ring, three yellow roses with red-tipped petals, supposedly meant ‘falling in love’, perfect for friends becoming something more. Despite the chill in the air, Cole’s face warmed at the thought.

In the very center, protected by all the others, stood a single red rose. Even without Cecelia’s help, Cole knew what that one meant. 

A creak like an opening door caught his attention. He looked up, and before he knew it he’d stood up, clutching the bouquet to his chest. 

There he was.

Alex tugged at his scarf, wrapping it tightly around his pale, speckled neck. Under the streetlight, he looked like nothing more than an angel as the rest of the cast poured out onto the street. 

It was Julie who saw him first, waving from across the street. She turned to Alex and said something, and Alex turned toward the street. Toward him.

He saw Cole, he saw the bouquet, and he took off running.

Cole felt like he was in a movie. The cold February wind, the bouquet between his hands, and the love of his life sprinting toward him across the street.

Neither of them saw the car until it was already too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, he's fine... kinda.
> 
> The next chapter, bear with me, is going to be nothing but tooth-rotting fluff.
> 
> I make no promises after that.


	19. Everything Around Us Says I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, I took a while off from writing because a whole BUNCH of stuff happened that I won't go into for personal reasons.
> 
> I'm back, baybee! It's confession time in backstorytown, and once again Alex is in the friggin hospital.

Twenty-four hours.

Cole had only stayed up for a whole day once before, during finals week a couple of months earlier. Even then, it hadn’t even been that bad. It had been the four of them, tossing lines at each other like dice and timing themselves on who could chug their soda the fastest. 

He’d been with Alex then, and that for all intents and purposes was his baseline for ‘okay’.

Now, huddled in the corner of the hospital hallway, he certainly felt less than okay. Cold maybe, and a little too tired to cry, but he couldn’t give less of a damn about how  _ he  _ felt.

There wasn’t anything he could do. The guy in the car- he’d overheard the police- was arrested going fifty in a school zone with enough coke in his system to kill a horse. It was entirely possible he didn’t even realize he’d hit someone.

But he hadn’t hit  _ someone _ . He’d hit  _ Alex _ . And Cole would never forgive him. 

“Mr. Brookstone?” 

His eyes felt like lead but he looked up anyway, finding a blonde woman maybe in her thirties with a nametag reading  _ BAKER _ . She offered him a glass of water, and when he didn’t respond she placed it on the little table next to him.

“He just needs a little rest,” Nurse Baker said, “didn’t even break a bone- just a concussion and some scrapes.”

“Can I see him?” he asked even before the nurse had finished her sentence. His words felt sticky in his throat- like he might cry if he said any more. He couldn’t cry, not until he saw Bee.

So when Nurse Baker nodded, he didn’t thank her. He didn’t say a thing, simply rose to his feet and stumbled after her.

“He’s in here, Mr. Brookstone,” Nurse Baker gestured toward the room.

“You’re his first visitor,” she added, in a displeased voice so low Cole almost didn’t hear it.

Of course, he was the first visitor. Who else could it be? Mr. Gordon didn’t give a shit about Alex unless there was someone to show off to. Mr. Gordon’s secretary- they changed so often Cole didn’t bother learning their names anymore- was probably too busy responding to fanmail or organizing another interview. 

Cole’s dad hadn’t bothered to learn Alex’s favorite color, much less visit him in the hospital. Lou Brookstone, it seemed, had lost interest in his son’s friends.

_ Julie and Hawk,  _ he thought for a moment, but no. They’d be getting dinner together somewhere, leaving Alex to Cole. That was how it worked, how it always had been. They went two by two and worried only about the other half of their pair. It made things easier that way.

“Hiya, Pebble,” said the other half of Cole, and all of a sudden the world went right-side-up.

There he was, as fragile and pale as ever, once again smiling up at him from a hospital bed. A sudden, dizzying rush of what could only be love or low blood sugar washed over him.

“Bee,” Cole breathed, kneeling at the bedside but not yet daring to take his hand. “I’m so sorry-”

Alex laughed softly, cutting off any words Cole might have had. God, Cole loved his laugh. Bright as the sun and brighter, it didn’t matter what time it was because Bee was laughing and it might as well have been noon.

“Cole,” the angel in the bed said, blinking slowly, “that accident could not have been less of your fault. I ran into the street.”

“You should see the other guy,” Cole muttered, and Nurse Baker nodded.

“Tried to fight half the precinct, had a heart attack from all the coke, and that was before his cellmates found out he ran over one of Ninjago’s up and rising stars,” she remarked casually, sending Alex into another bout of noiseless laughter.

Bee was so busy giggling, that he didn’t notice Nurse Baker slip out of the room, sending a wink Cole’s way before disappearing into the hallway.

“Betcha thought I didn’t notice those, huh Pebble?” Alex’s eyes darted between Cole and the bedside table, and it was only then that Cole realized what was there.

Four yellow roses, four black roses, three yellows tipped in red, and one blood-red rose sat in a cheap plastic vase, a rainbow-colored ribbon circled around its neck. The order was messed up- probably by Julie, or a well-meaning but unknowing police officer- but it was still the same bouquet. 

“What a sap, getting me flowers for my big break.” Alex continued, slipping a speckled hand out from under the covers. Cole took it without a second thought.

The look on his face- that soft, pure little smile that Alex seemed to save just for Cole- was almost too much, but Cole managed to stop himself from leaning in too far.

“You deserve it,” he said.

You deserve the world, he did not say. You deserve everything I can give you and more, you deserve everything you could ever want, and if you want me that’s all I’ll ever need.

There was a beat in time where he didn’t quite know what he was feeling before he realized- that was Alex’s hand, warm and soft on his cheek. Instinctively he leaned into the warmth- he hadn’t even realized how cold he was. Without a word, without even opening his eyes, he followed the warmth until there were two on the bed and the room wasn’t cold anymore.

They pulled each other closer, closer until a head of golden curls rested on Cole’s chest and his right arm wound around a pale, thin frame. In the moment of silence instinctively started counting the freckles on the hand fitting perfectly in his. 

One, two, three… he’d never get them all, but that didn’t stop him from trying. Reality didn’t stop the both of them from becoming friends, or Alex surviving two car crashes, or Cole from finding such a perfect person to latch on to. It didn’t seem possible, but it happened.

“Nurse Baker brought a book for me,” Alex broke the silence, nodding over to the little table on Cole’s left. 

He looked and felt his face heat up. A soft yellow book,  _ “The Magic Of Flower Symbolism” _ , sat there, laughing at him. His only solace, the only thing stopping him from burning up under his own embarrassment, was a simple fact; Alex didn’t like to read much. 

Like everything else, it had been that way since they were kids. Alex couldn’t focus on written words, and making him stare at a page never helped no matter what the teachers said. Audiobooks and a friend to read aloud for him were just about the only way the blonde could get through his classes. In turn, Bee was the only reason Cole had gotten through his classes, either.

“Can you read it to me?” Bee asked. 

Cole nodded. What else could he do? The book didn’t weigh much, and it wasn’t very big, easily fitting into Cole’s hand. Fate, the cruel bastard, opened the book to a very specific page.

“When arranging roses, whether as a gift or for your own home or event,” he started, “color is crucial in order to convey the right message.”

He heard Alex suck in a breath, and even though he couldn’t see them he knew those cloud-lining eyes were darting between Cole and the flowers just out of arms’ reach on the table. He didn’t move, though, so Cole continued.

“Yellow roses are a symbol of friendship and caring, and sending them is a lighthearted way of showing someone that you’re thinking about them.”

Bee hummed contentedly, leaning a little further onto Cole’s chest. He didn’t know if Alex could feel it, but his heart was hammering away inside his chest. His eyes fluttered over the section titled ‘Red Roses’, but he wasn’t ready for that yet.

“The exceptionally rare black rose may look black, but is technically a very dark purple or maroon-” Cole read, clearing his throat. 

“What do those mean?” 

“It means, ‘My Best Friend Keeps Getting HImself Hurt And It’s Stressing Me Out-”

A light, friendly punch hit his chest, and he looked up from the book to find Alex giggling again, his eyes sparkling with tears of laughter.

“Green roses,” Cole continued, pretending to read from the book, “mean ‘Get Me Some Hospital Jello Before I Commit Arson’.”

Bee rocked backward, laughing noiselessly. Before he could rock back too far, Cole grabbed his hand, steadying the smaller boy.

“Brown roses?” Alex asked between gasps for breath. Cole glanced toward the door and caught the slightest glimpse of blonde hair and blue scrubs whisking away again toward the hallway.

“Traditionally given after Taco Tuesday, brown roses-” and he couldn’t even finish his own joke before they both broke into laughter.

God, they were so immature- they kind of deserved to be, after everything that had happened. Alex’s hand brushed over his collarbone, exposed by the too-big hospital gown he wore, and picked at the edge of a huge white bandage centered on his chest.

“No picking, Bumblebee,”

“I know, I’m just-” the freckled hand traveled up from the bandage, running through the golden waves tangled into knots by a night in the hospital, “-nervous”

“I don’t think they’d let you have a carving knife in here.”

But, the little voice in Cole’s head whispered, why would he be nervous? It was just the two of them there, and they’d always been comfortable around each other. Maybe, just maybe they were nervous for the same reason, but it was best not to push it.

“Okay, guess the next rose color,” he suggested.

‘Hmm…” Alex looked around the room, still not dropping thor entwined hands. “Blue?”

Cole scanned the book, trying to think of a pun, but stopped at the paragraph labeled ‘blue’.

“Oh cool!” He tugged on Alex’s hand until the blonde crawled forward enough to see the book, “Says here that just a few years ago, scientists found a way to  _ make _ blue roses!”

Alex’s eyes went wide.

“So they don’t naturally grow?”

“They didn’t!” Cole beamed, flipping the page, “They modified the roses to have the blue pigment- and get this, blue roses are supposed to mean doing the impossible.”

“Makes sense,” Alex said, cracking a smile, “You’re such a nerd.”

“Am not!” Cole snapped instinctively, but he knew exactly what point Alex was going to bring up. And, as in most things, he’d be right.

“Are too! Remember when we went to the museum and Dr. Saunders talked for two hours about an old vase?” Bee said, right on cue, “you wouldn’t stop talking about it for forever!”

He remembered that vase, and of course, Alex was right.

“But it was such a cool vase! What was it, lapis? No, it was green, wasn’t it?” Cole pressed a finger to his temple, bringing every detail he could up from his memory, “It was kind of a green-and-blue marbling, right? What was that gemstone?”

Alex tapped him on the nose, bringing him back to reality. 

“Malachite, Pebble,” he said, his voice suddenly soft. “With a band of gold around the neck, you’ve told me enough times to remember.”

Another flush of heat washed over him, more embarrassment than anything. How many times had he brought up that stupid vase? He remembered a certain field trip ending in an accidental sleepover- he’d been so captivated by the museum that he and Alex had been locked in overnight. How much trouble had he caused over the years?

“The things I do, just ‘cause I love you.”

…

…

…

What?

What did he say? So many things happened at once. Cole’s face burned, the book slipping out of his hand and tumbling onto the floor with a dull thud. Alex, only then realizing what he’d said, turned bright red and tightened his posture into that of a startled meerkat. 

And in the hall, clearly audible through the wall, the nurses cheered.

“That-” Alex spoke again, running a hand through his hair, “that was  _ not  _ the confession I’ve been planning.”

Planning. Bee had been planning to confess. To him. 

“I mean, I had a whole thing going. Picture this: right before graduation. Flowers, a cake- I had no idea how I was gonna get all that up the mountain but-”

Alex stopped talking, mostly because by that point Cole had taken both of his hands and planted a kiss directly between his brows, on a freckle shaped like a heart.

“I love you too,” was all he could say, and the smile it got him made the sun jealous.

That was the first kiss of many.

* * *

_ “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about those.” _

_ “Ew, no! Romance is gross!” _

_ “Alright, so that’s the end of the story.” _

_ “But, what happened? Why aren’t you together anymore? Why are you two so weird around each other?” _

_ “...he’ll say it was his fault. Trust me, it wasn’t.” _


End file.
